


Q&A

by crossbelladonna



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Hanamaki having a bisexual epiphany, M/M, Pining, hanamaki abusing the dishware, kind of fake dating at some point tbh tho Not Really, matsuhana's shirt sharing debacle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 15:16:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12707556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossbelladonna/pseuds/crossbelladonna
Summary: He is, by all means, a walking clickbait article.(Developing A Sudden Crush On Your Best Friend Of Several Years: The Realization Will Shock You! or whatever social media journalists come up with these days.)Funnily enough, it was something he could laugh off at first, disbelieving despite his stomach curdling whenever a smile is directed his way. Deny, deny, deny until he’s staring at his fretful reflection in the mirror and thinking,who the fuck are you kidding?It’s a goddamn disaster that’s what it is.





	Q&A

**Author's Note:**

> soooooooooo i am back haikyuu (well not actually i'm not yet caught up with the manga again smh)  
> thanks to my ever so trust betas kira (@symphoniees) and hina (@asterbells) man. Man. you guys are the Best.
> 
> title is from [Q&A - Seventeen (ft. Ailee)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uk01FiCAk50)!

_Let me know, don’t know why I behave like this_

_I see no one but you, I don’t know why_

_(Must be something in your eyes)_

 

Hanamaki can’t possibly be in a sticky situation like this one. Joke’s on him honestly, it’s his fault entirely. No wonder he’s never gotten a girlfriend in his measly seventeen years. He was never the one to be good at being smooth.

And then there’s also the slowly growing impulse of wanting to hurl his phone out to somewhere far, far away. Somewhere else where the responsibility of having to answer the question will fall on someone else’s hands.

_Does this dress make me look fat?_

Jesus. It’s 2017.

Knowing girls, this question is loaded. Is it out of curiosity? An honest to god inquiry? Maybe a test to see whether you’re a slave to the unfair and discriminative societal standards of beauty? Hanamaki somehow understands why he’s never had a girlfriend now—it feels like walking on a landmine just trying to get to that stage.

Being this speculative could land him a job in the government, he thinks. The girl he’s trying to get to know—Mahiru from the class next to his—had sent him a picture of herself wearing a yellow dress she’s supposedly wearing to her friend’s outing, as they were talking. Or so she says anyway.

And then the question.

If Hanamaki were to be honest, it isn’t a question that needs this much intricate thinking. Hell, she looks fine! Beautiful, even! Why does society's figure weight expectations contribute to physical beauty? It’s _heinous._ But this is testy. He’s heard multiple times from his friends before about how he never seems to mean the things he says and end up sounding _patronizing_.

In the living room, Hanamaki can hear his sister laughing at something.

Might as well be at him.

 

Matsukawa thinks his phone is ringing but that might just be his imagination. He can’t hear it either way, not when he’s got his headphones streaming loud music but the little voice in his head is telling him to check it.

Definitely someone calling.

Matsukawa takes his headphones off, the wire almost snagging on his glasses as he twirls his chair around to reach for the phone vibrating on his bed. He almost snorts when he sees who it is.

“Issei,” comes the familiar demanding drawl and Matsukawa bites back a smile.

“Sorry, I don’t want to take callers from telemarketers if you could come back some other time—”

“ISSEI, THIS IS AN EMERGENCY,”

Matsukawa laughs easily, leaning back and running a hand through his hair.

“You can’t possibly be desperate enough to ask help from _me,_ ”

“Oh yeah, I’m desperate. I’d-jump-off-this-window desperate.”

Matsukawa blinks slowly. “Hmm,” he gets up mechanically and walks over to the window, pushing back his curtains with one swift slide.

Across the street, or more accurately, the window across his, is open and Hanamaki is leaning out of it, looking disgruntled and a slightly wild look in his eyes, the one he gets when he’s out there overthinking about usually trivial matters.

Matsukawa looks away quickly, knowing if he stares he’ll end up laughing.

“What kind of idiotic thing did you get yourself into this time?”

Hanamaki sits up, affronted.

“How dare you make accusations, Four Eyes!”

Matsukawa can hear him shouting from across the street. They don’t even need the phone at this point. Nevertheless, he plays along like he often does and he puts a hand on his chest as he feigns offense.

“Of course you’d displace your problems on my half-blindedness.”

“Issei,”

“Oikawa is half-blind too and look how he is.”

“Annoying?”

“I meant like he gets all the girls but whatever.”

This makes Hanamaki pause, a hazy look passing on his face before he slowly slumps down.

“Girls,” he says, like he’s never heard of them before, “about that,”

“Are you kidding me?”

Hanamaki buries his face in his hands in shame.

“Mahiru asked me what I thought about her appearance,” he mopes, “why can’t we just love ourselves?”

“Uh…you tell her that.”

“I was gonna tell her she looked okay. And then I remember one time Temari did that to me and she didn’t talk to me for three days straight—”

Matsukawa manages to pass off a snort as a cough.

“In her defense, you looked at her and just…nodded slowly.”

“She’s my _sister_. And that bubble skirt looked awful.”

“Since you can’t see me well I want you to know I’m rolling my eyes.”

“Hey!” Hanamaki yells once more and then rambles on fiercely, “Don’t be mean we’re all in this together.”

Matsukawa tilts his head, teasing.

“Since when?”

“ _God_ , I can’t believe you. Come on, help me out. How do you think I should tell her? You’re good at being smooth.”

“That’s the best compliment you’ve ever given me.”

“That’s all you got from all that?!”

Matsukawa sighs, long and suffering.

“Makki,” he says, patiently, “this isn’t rocket science.”

“RIGHT?? I KNOW,” Hanamaki sounds flustered. “So why can’t I do it? Why does everything I say seems like I’m joking around? I know this, okay, Iwaizumi told me once—”

“Couldn’t agree more.”

“What the fuck, you shouldn’t be agreeing I thought you’re on my side—”

Matsukawa isn’t even trying to hide his laughter at this point.

Hanamaki is still rambling. “Then again, if I tell you right now you’re the most handsome thing I’ve ever seen you wouldn’t believe me, get the point?”

Matsukawa smirks. “Only because you really don’t mean it.”

“ _Issei,_ ” Hanamaki sounds terribly exasperated.

Matsukawa laughs softly. “You know,” he says, “you don’t have to make it sound fancy. If you really do sound shady from the start then, well…”

“You finish that sentence right now.”

Matsukawa clears his throat, ignoring him.

“Anyway, just say it like it is. Tell her what you think she’d like to hear as long as it’s honest. If she doubts it then tell her again. People don’t have to believe you from the start.”

Hanamaki drifts into silence for a moment and it takes a while for Matsukawa to notice that he’s staring right at him, deliberating it. Either that or he’s just staring. Hanamaki likes to stare anyway.

“Yeah, that was nice and all,” Hanamaki says.

 _And all?_ Matsukawa raises an eyebrow. _This jerk._

“I totally get you I promise.”

“I get what you mean earlier about sounding like you’re just fucking around.”

Hanamaki makes an offended noise. “Well at least I say things! You don’t! Since when did you get new frames for your glasses huh? _Huh?_ ”

Matsukawa blinks in surprise at the sudden turn of the conversation and he listens to Hanamaki grumble some more about secrets and lies and Matsukawa bursts into laughter.

He doesn’t even know the half of it.

 

It almost feels like he’s playing wingman.

Matsukawa’s standing outside the basketball gym, trying to shield his eyes from the sunlight that’s beaming down on him as he leans close to the door. Inside the gym, he can hear the palpable squeaking of shoes, the dribbling of a ball or two and very faintly, the sound of charmed laughter.

Unfortunate. Hanamaki just had to get a crush on the basketball team’s manager.

Matsukawa can’t hear him inside though he knows Hanamaki is still busy trying to whip up the skills he recently learned about smooth talking and sweeping girls off their feet that Matsukawa had rolled his eyes about. And since Mahiru is laughing, it must be going well.

Unfortunate.

He’s not _bitter._

“Ah! Matsukawa-kun!”

Matsukawa looks over to his side and spots two of his female classmates (he’s sure they’re his classmates at least) waving at him almost bashfully. This happens sometimes. Sometimes, it’s a miracle.

Matsukawa nods in greeting, smiling gently.

“Hello, Nishikawa-san, Akabane-san.”

Nishikawa beams. “Are you going to watch the basketball team practice?”

Matsukawa shakes his head. “No. I’ll be off to practice in a moment anyway. I’m just waiting for Makki.”

 _Again?_ Matsukawa’s little voice says. What a rude conscience.

The girls nod when they hear Matsukawa’s reply.

“I see,” Akabane says, practically glowing, “we’re here to watch the basketball team practice.

“Hmm,” Matsukawa hums, “show the volleyball team the same enthusiasm too, alright?” He teases.

Naturally, this gets him a giggle from them.

“Of course, Matsukawa-kun, it’s a given!” Nishikawa says.

“Plus, I want to see Iwaizumi-kun play.” Akabane coos.

Matsukawa’s lips quirk when he hears this. Oikawa’s going to have a field day with that one.

“Naturally,” Matsukawa tells them with a flourish of a hand. “Everyone wants to watch the ace play.”

Nishikawa beams. “You’re pretty great out there too, Matsukawa-kun, don’t worry!”

Matsukawa grins at the flattery.

“I’ll have to get Oikawa to answer that for me.”

They both laugh. “Don’t you believe it if he says otherwise! Anyway, we should be going on right ahead, are you sure you don’t want to come?” Nishikawa tells him.

Matsukawa nods warmly. “Ah, it’s fine, honestly. Don’t let me keep you. Have fun!”

They move past Matsukawa, still grinning and the moment they step inside the gym, the girls’ chatter is replaced with a familiar humming voice, making its way to the door.

“Hanamaki-san, hello! Matsukawa-kun is waiting for you outside.”

“Hi! Oh, he definitely is.” A laugh.

Matsukawa snorts, leaning onto the wall again and he closes his eyes once more against the sunlight. He hears footsteps stop right next to him and only opens his eyes when he hears Hanamaki make a thoughtful noise.

Hanamaki is staring up at him.

Matsukawa raises his eyebrows questioningly.

“Huh,” Hanamaki says, “how come you’re Matsukawa- _kun_ and I’m Hanamaki- _san?_ ”

Matsukawa looks amused.

“What can I say, I’m very endearing.”

Hanamaki makes a face in objection and Matsukawa continues like nothing is wrong, “So,” he says, clearing his throat and gesturing to the gym with a tilt of his head, “how’d it go?”

Hanamaki’s entire face clears, lighting up. It’s slightly painful to watch.

“Well, I think? She smiled a lot. But she was in a hurry because she was with that girl friend of hers.”

“You’re not so hopeless then,” Matsukawa notes.

“Shut up!”

A group of three girls comes up to the gym door and Hanamaki steps closer to Matsukawa to let them pass. Before they enter however, they each give a quick greeting to Matsukawa before leaving.

Hanamaki watches this with interest, smirking to himself.

“I wonder what they’ll say if they see you in those glasses of yours,” he says with a teasing tone, pointing at Matsukawa’s eyes.

“‘ _Ah, so Matsukawa is half-blind_ —’”

Hanamaki smacks him on the arm and Matsukawa bursts into laughter, sticking his tongue out at him.

“Are you done dissing me now?” He grins. “Let’s get to practice Iwaizumi will be nagging—”

“They really did seem to like you though,” Hanamaki comments and Matsukawa stops right short. Hanamaki shrugs.

“Is that right?” Matsukawa indulges, smiling crookedly. “Unfortunately it doesn’t really fall in my line of interests.”

Hanamaki rolls his eyes. “ _What_ falls into your line of interests then?”

That makes Matsukawa visibly pause and he stares at Hanamaki briefly until the latter raises an eyebrow, all quizzical.

“I have an idea or two,” Matsukawa says.

 

Matsukawa isn’t really surprised when Hanamaki slams the door to his room open and strides inside his room like it’s his own threshold. Hanamaki already comes over so frequently Matsukawa’s parents barely bat an eye.

“I bought a book!” Hanamaki announces, hopping onto Matsukawa’s bed.

Matsukawa moves away from his desk and whirls his chair towards his bed.

“How wonderful.  Education.”

“Witty,” Hanamaki snubs, lifting his book up so Matsukawa can see the cover. “Look!”

_Girl Talk Decoded_

It’s inevitable. Matsukawa bursts out laughing. _Unbelievable._

“What?” Hanamaki says, obviously disgruntled.

“Nothing really, just coming to terms of how hopeless you are.” Matsukawa shakes his head. “So what did you learn?”

“I haven’t read it yet. Temari laughed at me though, when she saw it. Like _you_. Traitor.”

Matsukawa scoffs. “I’d imagine. You didn’t have to buy a book!”

“I’m not good with women, okay!”

Matsukawa feels the creeping exasperation.

“You know they’re literally…just people, right? You have a _sister_.”

“Temari could be a giant child and I wouldn’t know the difference.”

“She’s older than you—I can’t believe this. The disrespect.”

Hanamaki ignores him anyway and starts flipping through the pages like it’s the morning paper.

“‘ _Do I look any different today~?_ ’” Hanamaki reads aloud in a singsong voice and proceeds to drop his tone lower when he reads the next, “‘ _The key is to be honest and be nice—’_ okay this isn’t helping much.”

Matsukawa sighs. “You didn’t even finish it.”

Hanamaki taps his chin as he reads on, murmuring to himself as he thinks and Matsukawa just watches him until he snaps his fingers after apparently getting an idea.

“Okay, I got it!” Hanamaki says, excited.

“You—”

Hanamaki puts the book down and scoots closer to Matsukawa, rubbing his hands together in expectation.

“You ask me,” Hanamaki says, gamely.

Matsukawa raises his eyebrows, surprised.

“Excuse me,”

“Ask me the thing, come on!”

Matsukawa makes a noise of complaint.

“This is so stupid—agh, don’t kick me alright, alright!” Matsukawa actually feels like pouting. He’s going to give Oikawa an award for this. Softly, as meekly as he could, he goes, voice tilting higher as he indulges the ridiculous request and hopes to god no one else sees him like this, “…do I look any different today?” and immediately feels the burning sensation on his cheeks and he would have started pacing around the room for a bit if it weren’t for the fact that Hanamaki is staring at him like he’s really scrutinizing his appearance.

He is. And he’s taking it quite seriously, might as well make use of the guinea pig and Hanamaki almost smiles to himself when he sees the pink shade in Matsukawa’s cheeks.

Matsukawa looks warm to say the least. He’s wearing the sweater Hanamaki gave him a while back, the one with a peace sign embroidered on the front and although Hanamaki thinks it’s really not that great, Matsukawa keeps wearing it a lot.

“Well, I’d say…” Hanamaki starts and looks at Matsukawa dead in the eye. He raises his hands and does an impression of a finger gun, wink and all, and continues with, “you look pretty cozy.”

The sequence of Matsukawa’s scowl is vaguely humorous until he buries his face in his hands, groaning.

“What!” Hanamaki yells. “That was good!”

“YOU’RE TERRIBLE.”

“Fuck you, Issei, that was perfectly fine!”

“I’m moving away—”

Hanamaki quickly retrieves a pillow on the bed and gives Matsukawa a big smack right on the head.

“Fine, if you’re such a genius why don’t _you_ answer it then huh, smartass?”

Matsukawa does a complete 180 and straightens to look at Hanamaki, challenging.

He actually _smirks_. “Ask me.”

“Oh,” Hanamaki immediately gets into the part, clasping his hands together near his face and fluttering his eyelashes. “Do I look any different today?”

Matsukawa makes a big show of removing his glasses and carefully setting it on his chair. Hanamaki watches him move fluidly and with purpose and is a little puzzled when Matsukawa moves to the side of the bed and sits right next to him to get a closer view.

Matsukawa’s dark eyes are piercing, pining Hanamaki on the spot as he focuses his full attention on him and for some reason, Hanamaki can’t look away, not even when his palms start to sweat and for some goddamn reason, his heart starts pounding.

“Hmm,” Matsukawa murmurs, as he does, voice smooth and low, “I’m not very sure, actually. Did you get a haircut? Do _you_ look any different? I tend to look at your smile when we see each other before anything else.”

Matsukawa is smiling, clearly pleased with himself and Hanamaki can’t even make a retort, eyes wide and forgetting all the words he’s ever known.

“Ah—I—” Hanamaki stammers, pulse now really loud in his ears.

Then, Matsukawa laughs softly, still not moving away and _god._

“Besides, I can’t see you right now. You’re all blurry.”

In an instant, the pillow is back in Hanamaki’s hand and he shoves it right on Matsukawa’s face as he starts laughing.

“I get it! I get it!” Matsukawa shouts as he concedes and Hanamaki doesn’t stop until his ears no longer feel warm.

“Did you learn anything at all?” Matsukawa asks once Hanamaki finds the excuse to bury himself in the book again.

Hanamaki peeks at him from on top of the pages. Matsukawa is wearing his glasses again and is twirling around slowly on his chair, long fingers tapping at the edges.

Hanamaki wonders if he should answer it but—“Yeah,”

Matsukawa seems satisfied enough to move back to his desk.

Two things Hanamaki knows at least: Girls are _still_ lethal.

Matsukawa probably even more.

 

Hanamaki’s not sure why he never even thought of it before. Probably because Matsukawa is a jackass in most days anyway or at least, he looks the part. And although Matsukawa keeps insisting he doesn’t have a fan following like the hordes that follow Oikawa sometimes, the girls watching them practice from above who’ve been cheering on Matsukawa every time he serves, seems to say otherwise.

Hanamaki stares at him accusingly as Matsukawa picks up another ball to serve and the gaggle of girls instantly go, “Nice serve, Matsukawa-kun!”

Right. Okay so he’s got fans of his own. Matsukawa is good looking; he’s not going to deny that. He’s always got that dark and broody image going on about him that girls seem to like. It might even get him called a badboy and if Hanamaki didn’t know better (Matsukawa has eight throw pillows on his bed. Eight.), he would’ve believed that too.

Right.

“Who shat on your cereal today?” Matsukawa wonders out loud when he walks back to the bench. Hanamaki narrows his eyes.

“What?” Matsukawa says defensively. “You’ve been glaring at me for a while now.”

“This is my ‘I’m thinking’ face.”

“Ah, of course. How could I have known.”

Hanamaki seems to be in seriously pondering though, Matsukawa observes as he sits down right next to him.

“Don’t you notice them?”

Matsukawa blinks. “What?”

Hanamaki clicks his tongue, annoyed and he discreetly points out the girls in the bleachers. Matsukawa follows his gaze and when he spots them, he sees them wave at him delightedly.

“Oh, they’re here. How nice of them,” Matsukawa smiles.

“You’re like an Oikawa in the making.”

“That’s not a very bad insult if you really think about it.”

“I heard that. With my own two ears.”

“This is not awkward at all.”

Hanamaki remains silent momentarily and then turns to Matsukawa, appearing quizzical.

“Have you ever considered getting a girlfriend?” The question doesn’t sound sarcastic at all.

Matsukawa is a bit baffled. “Huh. I told you that’s not in my line of interes—”

“A boyfriend, then?”

Hanamaki actually expects some sort of deflection from Matsukawa, heck even a sarcastic remark from him would be a probable outcome.

However, Matsukawa just smirks at him, nonchalantly shrugging, “why not?”

Why not. Hanamaki’s soul is about to leave his body. He feels giddy; the cheers from the balcony suddenly fleeting and he’s not sure why.

Matsukawa obviously wonders why he’s staring.

“Don’t think too hard you might explode.”

“I hate you,” Hanamaki says, cheeks starting to burn.

Matsukawa winks, definitely saying _tell me something I don’t know._

“Hanamaki-san! Someone’s looking for you!”

They both turn and immediately see Kindaichi at the door, waving at them to get their attention. Beside him, surprisingly, is Mahiru, who waves at them as well.

In her defense, Matsukawa can see why Hanamaki’s so enamored with her. She is stunning, all glowing as she smiles, her hair kept neatly in a ponytail and she’s wearing the basketball team manager’s uniform. Beside her is another girl who seems to be keeping to herself and Matsukawa assumes she’s the backup friend.

“Well, well,” Matsukawa says.

Hanamaki’s cheeks burn for a new reason altogether.

“O-Oh, she um…borrowed the sports events schedule for the school festival from me,” Hanamaki says, unsure why he’s explaining himself. “She must be returning it.”

“Ah,” Matsukawa says, nodding graciously, “go ahead then.”

Hanamaki shuffles for a moment before turning sharply to leave and Matsukawa doesn’t watch him go.

He doesn’t get the chance to anyway since the now empty spot beside him is immediately replaced by Iwaizumi who’s looking commandeering as he waves a clipboard around.

“Why hello, Iwaizumi,” Matsukawa says easily.

“Yeah. I didn’t want to interrupt you both earlier; you’re pain in the necks together.”

“What’s that? I can’t really hear you from down there.”

Iwaizumi stares at him with a dead look in his eye.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Matsukawa nods quickly because he has a bit of self-preservation left at least.

Iwaizumi smirks, smug. “That’s what I thought,” he says. “Anyway, help me with our booth for the school festival. We got Oikawa’s classroom to use but _of course_ he’s not here to discuss this.”

Matsukawa smiles, amused. “Didn’t we do a horror booth last year and it outstandingly failed because Oikawa destroyed half of our props when he got scared of the plastic spiders?”

Iwaizumi scowls, obviously displeased. This is not a fond memory.

“Some things are meant to be forgotten,” he frowns and then makes a disgusted noise when he looks over Matsukawa’s shoulder. “Speak of the devil.”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa skids to a stop next to Iwaizumi, smiling wide as he holds up two water bottles, one of which he hands to Iwaizumi with grace. “Don’t forget to hydrate, sweet pea,”

Iwaizumi glares at him and shrugs him off.

“Stop. You know what I’m doing right now? _Your work._ ”

“Don’t be so stingy, Iwa-chan I only took a little break.”

“‘ _Don’t be stingy_ ’ let me hear you say that again.”

“Don’t be sting—ow! Iwa-chan don’t pinch me!”

Matsukawa rolls his eyes and looks away from them. _The usual_ , he thinks, and his gaze drifts towards the endearing halo of light brown hair, pinkish now that the sun is setting, by the door.

Hanamaki looks a bit red on the face as he looks down at Mahiru who, on the other hand, looks plenty at ease. She’s smiling, amiable and friendly-looking in general.

“Ah, is that the Friend?” Oikawa leans towards Matsukawa with a snide tone.

“Hmm,” Matsukawa says.

“What are they doing?”

“I’m not sure. They’re in this…question and answer stage or something I don’t know.”

Oikawa is still smiling in that secretive way of his and it’s vaguely annoying. Oikawa hooks an arm around Iwaizumi’s and leans his head affectionately on his while Iwaizumi resumes perusing his clipboard.

“Iwa-chan, did we ever have a question and answer stage?” Oikawa coos.

“I always ask you why you’re a dumbass who keeps forgetting to put on his knee brace but I always get no response.”

Oikawa makes an offended noise and Matsukawa laughs.

“Ohh, there we go.”

Oikawa retaliates by making a face at him.

“Oh yeah? It goes for you too, Mattsun!”

Matsukawa raises an eyebrow. “Does it now?”

Oikawa beams. “Don’t you have questions for him yourself?”

Matsukawa stops mid-inhale and lets out his breath slowly. God, sometimes he hates Oikawa for real.

He rolls his eyes at him exaggeratedly and he turns away as Oikawa starts snickering. Either way, his snickers are cut short when Iwaizumi gives him another jab to the ribs, making him yelp.

“Stop teasing,” Iwaizumi chastises.

“I was just asking about questions…”

 _Yeah_ , Matsukawa muses. _I’ve got a few._

 

The school festival draws closer in about a week and in an unexpected turn of events, they settle on doing the most cliché booth to ever exist—a butler café, much to Iwaizumi’s chagrin.

(And Kyoutani who had fled the moment he heard the news.)

“This’ll only give Oikawa a chance to show off,” Iwaizumi despaired.

“It’s not showing off when you’re not doing it on purpose, Iwa-chan!”

 

“I look like a penguin wearing a bowtie,” is Hanamaki’s only complaint, which he shares as he’s walking home with Matsukawa as usual.

Matsukawa only laughs, watching his breath cloud in front of him. They had left once their booth has been decided and he knows the next following days would be nothing but even tighter schedules.

“Not if you put on your bowtie well,” Matsukawa finally tells him, kicking away a stray pebble.

Hanamaki scoffs and it sounds muffled as he hitched his scarf to his nose.

 _The stars are out today,_ Matsukawa refuses to look anywhere else.

“No questions today?” Nonchalant and casual is all.

Hanamaki almost stops walking in surprise.

“Questions…” he mumbles, “oh! Well, I…no she didn’t.”

“I see.”

“Yeah. She had to be somewhere with her friend.”

Matsukawa smiles to himself, eyes twinkling.

“Did that make you sad?”

Hanamaki clicks his tongue. “Why would I be? If anything, I’m relieved!”

Matsukawa snorts. “Oh, really huh? Then it’ll be okay if you’ll come over to my house tonight? Guess who’s an abandoned child again.”

Hanamaki immediately bursts into a smile, laughing in disbelief.

“You’re so dramatic! Of course I’ll go! Heck, I’ll come uninvited either way.”

“Like some animal.”

“STOP.”

 

Matsukawa is dumping popcorn into a bowl when Hanamaki comes striding in from his front door, shouting, “ISSEI~” in a singsong.

Matsukawa turns an eye to him, unaffected as he clutches on to the bowl tight and almost drops it when he sees what Hanamaki is wearing, although only from amusement.

Hanamaki is wearing gray sweats, and adoringly, his sister’s fluffy hoodie.

“Goodness, what is that you’re wearing?” Hanamaki points to Matsukawa as though he hasn’t looked into a mirror lately.

Matsukawa thumbs at the apron he’s wearing, the words _I Kiss Better than I Cook_ embroidered on its entire front.

“It’s my mom’s,” Matsukawa says. “It was a gag gift but she keeps using it.”

Hanamaki reads the words under his breath again and scoffs, waving a hand at Matsukawa.

“You’re not that talented.”

Matsukawa smiles crookedly. “You don’t know that.”

“Oh, please I’ve known you since middle school, Four Eyes.”

“I could’ve changed. I have fans now.”

Hanamaki beams smugly, putting his hands on his hips.

“Try harder next time.”

 _Try harder?_ When wasn’t he trying? Matsukawa sighs inwardly. Next time. As always.

“Whatever,” he dismisses, getting back to business. “I see you brought along your book.”

Matsukawa walks past him and sees the book Hanamaki is propping onto his hip and Hanamaki immediately looks sheepish.

"I don’t give up easily, don’t I?”

Matsukawa smiles to himself and mulls it over, taking his apron off and drapes it over a chair.

“No, you don’t.” He tells him, honest and Hanamaki looks pleased.

He always aims to please.

Matsukawa grabs the bowl of popcorn again and motions Hanamaki to follow him.

“Come on, hopeless; let’s dissect that book of yours.”

 

They don’t get to dissect it immediately and it’s somehow expected.

“We are _not_ watching _Train to Busan._ ”

“Why not?” Matsukawa jibes back. He doesn’t really care what movie they’re going to watch if he’s going to be honest—he just likes seeing Hanamaki get all frazzled.

“It has _zombies_ ,” Hanamaki has a tiny scowl as he flips through the movie list.

“It’s a great movie,” Matsukawa says, failing spectacularly at being convincing.

Hanamaki ignores the list, looking serious for once and says in one breath, “You don’t watch zombie movies on the first date!”

Now _this_ is surprising.

Matsukawa raises his eyebrows, way up.

“Oh? Are we simulating now?”

“Hey! You were the one who said we’re dissecting my book!” Hanamaki points the book towards Matsukawa, both suspicious and accusing.

Matsukawa laughs, feeling a rush of affection for this idiot so suddenly that he has to hang his head back onto the back of the couch.

“Right. Dissecting your book,” Matsukawa grins. “What do you want to watch then?”

“Don’t people watch romantic movies on the first date?”

“Ah, we’re going down the cliché route I see, not bad.”

Hanamaki stares at him, unamused.

“We’re supposed to _help_ each other.”

Matsukawa chuckles, straightening up.

“Let’s watch something ghibli,” he says.

 

The only problem with this suggestion is that Hanamaki eventually gets too engrossed with the movie and completely forgets about the purpose for all of this, forgetting his book and makes a grab for Matsukawa’s arm every now and then even though the movie doesn’t even warrant suspense.

“They’re _siblings?_ ” Hanamaki hisses in disbelief, stabbing a finger towards the TV.

Matsukawa looks up briefly to see what’s going on. He’s been discreetly reading through Hanamaki’s book and he doesn’t even remember when _From Up on Poppy Hill_ came on.

“Huh,” Matsukawa says, being mysterious.

Hanamaki pauses the movie immediately and tugs hard on Matsukawa’s sleeve.

“Come on, tell me this is vital!”

“Dates don’t spoil movies.”

“It’s a _pseudo_ -date!”

“Pseudo-dates don’t spoil movies.”

Hanamaki buries his face in his hands, grumbling for a moment and then gets an idea a second later, grabbing his phone out of nowhere with determination.

“I’m going to google it,” he declares.

Matsukawa moves quickly, hands reaching out to grab Hanamaki’s own to stop him and he doesn’t let go.

“Just _watch it_ ,” Matsukawa tells him fiercely.

“ISSE—” Hanamaki begins to say but then he looks down to Matsukawa’s grip and grins slyly. “Ooh, handsy are we,”

“Be a good date and watch the movie.”

“‘Be a good date’ so demanding. Very kinky.”

Matsukawa chokes, laughing out loud in disbelief and his hands slacken.

“What the fuck, Makki—”

Hanamaki takes advantage of the momentary slackened grip and pries himself free with a triumphant, “HA! SUCK IT!” and dives away from Matsukawa with his phone in hand.

Matsukawa watches in defeat as Hanamaki starts typing away.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Hanamaki finally stops typing and turns back around to show him what he’s typed into Google’s search bar.

Matsukawa reads it aloud slowly, “‘why is issei matsukawa a pushov—’ HEY NOW! Come here I swear on your sister’s fluffy hoodie I’m going to smother you—”

Hanamaki bends over in fits of laughter and Matsukawa doesn’t actually move a muscle, only watching him with a twinge of giddiness.

“You’re the worst,” Matsukawa says flatly, making Hanamaki grin.

“And yet you’re here,” Hanamaki says smugly. He pulls up his knees to his chest and scoots back closer to Matsukawa’s side, leaning against him and getting comfortable.

“You’re tolerable in most times,”

“I didn’t hear you.”

“You’re so—”

Hanamaki elbows him hard on the ribs. “ANYWAY, I didn’t google it okay? God, you’re so whiny…” he reaches for the remote and plays the movie again. “It’s just that the pining on this is so real you know? It’d be too bad if that’s what’s going to end up, the sibling thing.”

“Well you’re in for a surprise.”

“ _Stop_ , don’t talk!”

Matsukawa scoffs and he resumes perusing Hanamaki’s book as he gets into the movie again, drifting into silence. Not ten minutes has passed however when Hanamaki speaks up again although this time, as he leans back against Matsukawa, his voice is soft and far away.

“Hey, Issei,” he says.

Matsukawa puts the book down.

“What is it?”

“You never told me what your favorite movie is.”

Matsukawa thinks about it. Has he never told him, really?

“Are you grudging?” Matsukawa grins.

Hanamaki twitches, annoyed. “ _No_ , I’m asking.”

“Okay. I don’t have a favorite movie. I like movies after I watch them so I like them all equally.”

“Meh, you’re boring.”

Matsukawa smiles. “What’s yours then?”

“ _Finding Nemo_.”

Matsukawa’s smile widens. “I like _Finding Nemo_.”

“You like everything!”

 _I like—_ “Yeah.”

“What else?” Hanamaki demands, poking Matsukawa’s arm.

“What else?” Matsukawa echoes.

“Tell me things. I don’t know—you don’t really say much.”

Another rush of affection and Matsukawa isn’t surprised anymore and slowly, the movie that’s playing turns into white noise.

“Okay.”

 

“So…” Hanamaki begins again and Matsukawa rolls his eyes.

Somehow, he’s ended up lying down on Matsukawa’s lap and is absentmindedly picking at the fluffy strings of his hoodie as he keeps making inquiries. Matsukawa has abandoned the book too although he’s still turning the pages to make it seem he hasn’t.

The movie has long since ended.

“What is it this time?” Matsukawa drawls.

Hanamaki ignores the jab. “A pastry chef? You really want to be a pastry chef?”

“Hey! You want to be an astronaut now which one’s more farfetched?”

“I didn’t mean it badly, though! Why didn’t you tell me this?” A smack on the arm. “All the times I could’ve asked you to make me cream puffs!”

“ _Don’t I already do that all the time?_ ”

Hanamaki continues off like he didn’t hear anything, “It’s a good dream though,” he flutters his fingers in front of him, little strings of fluff in between his fingers as he talks about Matsukawa’s dream in a soft tone, “I can imagine you donning a white apron with that cute little  chef’s hat.”

“Ah, you think of me too highly, Hanamaki-san.”

“I want you to know I cringed.”

Matsukawa bursts out laughing and Hanamaki turns an eye to him for the first time. There’s still a wondering look to his eye, obviously wanting to know more.

“Okay then, tell me about wishes,” he says.

Matsukawa indulges him. “What about wishes?”

“ _Your_ wishes, dumbass. What you want to accomplish before graduating or whatever—who knows.”

“You go first then you just called me a dumbass.”

Hanamaki clicks his tongue, dismayed.

“Fine, geez. I want to..." he looks away again, closing his eyes thoughtfully and Matsukawa watches the way his eyelashes flutter against his cheekbones. Somehow he knows what Hanamaki is going to wish for and he’s trying not to expect much—

“I want to fill a jar with paper stars.”

Matsukawa blinks, heart stopping in surprise.

“That’s it?”

Hanamaki sticks his tongue out at him.

“What’s wrong with filling a jar with paper stars? I want to be one of those aesthetic people.”

Matsukawa snorts. “Yeah right, I thought you’d want to be more…you know…” He makes vague gestures with his hands.

Hanamaki frowns. “More what?”

“More confident with talking to girls.”

Hanamaki’s mouth hangs open, finding words to say and only realizes he should’ve said so.

It doesn’t feel like priority at the moment, though.

“I-I think I’m confident enough,” he says bravely.

Matsukawa stares at him for a long time in rebuff.

“STOP JUDGING ME,” Hanamaki yells. “Your turn, Four Eyes!”

He’s as simple as Hanamaki might think he is.

“I want to see the school festival fireworks.” Matsukawa mutters.

This seems to take Hanamaki aback as he sits up and stares at Matsukawa with astonishment.

“You’ve…never seen the school festival fireworks?” He almost sounds scandalized.

Matsukawa rubs the back of his neck.

“Yeah. Coincidence, mostly. Remember first year I got sick at the festival and I left early? Didn’t see them. Second year, I tagged behind to fix what props Oikawa had damaged. Didn’t see them then too.”

Hanamaki is starting to look troubled and slowly, he nods in consolation.

“Let’s get you to see those fireworks,” he says solemnly.

Matsukawa blinks. “What?”

“The fireworks, Issei! You can’t graduate without having seen them at least once!”

“It’s not a very big deal,” Matsukawa mumbles, embarrassed. “It’d be nice though.”

Hanamaki claps his hands once, delighted.

“See? I’ll make sure you see it, I promise.” And he continues on babbling about the plan to get Matsukawa to see them, including making sure that Matsukawa won’t be the one to fix Oikawa’s future damages. As he says this, Matsukawa watches him, a slight smile on his face as he stares at Hanamaki’s very articulate gestures.

Matsukawa wonders why he likes him. Hanamaki complains a lot and actually sulks worse than Oikawa will ever be although not a lot of people have seen him that way. He’s guarded, cries easily, and can be a snob when he wants to be.

But when he sees him like this, all warm and bubbly, the answer becomes clear.

 

The next day, Hanamaki finds Matsukawa slamming (although not quite as hard as he expected) down a large mason jar on his desk and it startles Hanamaki enough that he jumps in his seat.

Matsukawa is standing beside him, smirking.

“W-What…?” Hanamaki eyes the jar.

“You said you wanted to be one of those aesthetic people,” Matsukawa chuckles, “fill a jar with paper stars, right? You can start now.”

Hanamaki’s eyes burn and he turns to Matsukawa with cheeks slowly warming.

“Oh,” Hanamaki says.

“Uhuh.”

“Well then,” Hanamaki takes the jar, smiling, “you’d have to help me. It’s too big.”

Matsukawa laughs. “Is it?” He pulls the chair in front of Hanamaki’s desk and uses it to sit next to him. “Teach me then. I don’t know how.”

Hanamaki wonders why he likes Matsukawa. He’s often smirking smugly to himself when things go his way, which is more than usual these days and he can be notoriously secretive. He’s as intimidating as he’s charming and Hanamaki doesn’t really…have anything bad to say about him.

“Did I do it right?” Matsukawa holds up a slightly crooked star ever so gently in his hand and Hanamaki wonders if he holds real hearts the same way too.

“It’s crooked, clumsy hands,” Hanamaki says, taking it away from him and fixing it himself.

“Yikes,” Matsukawa says lightly.

Hanamaki fixes the star in no time, his deft hands folding and pushing the paper with ease. Matsukawa is staring at him, he knows this and he’s bristling not knowing if the stare is directed at him or at his hands.

Hanamaki thrusts the fixed star to Matsukawa who drops it in the jar like he would throw a basketball.

“Eight down, nine hundred ninety-two more to go,” he says, grinning.

They continue making stars as long as their break warrants it and Hanamaki watches Matsukawa make some more, the next ones he creates are no less than perfect and for a brief moment, Hanamaki wonders if he messed up the first one on purpose.

 

+

 

“‘ _Do you think that girl is pretty?’_ Did _I_ think that girl was pretty?”

Matsukawa looks at him steadily with an ill sort of calm. Hanamaki has invaded his room again and is standing by the window, looking out into space with his hands on his hips. He’s displaying his contemplative stance although Matsukawa thinks it’s closer to bullshit than actual contemplation.

“Well,” Matsukawa says, not very certain where this conversation even started, “did you?”

Hanamaki whips around swiftly, a bad sign. He’s scowling too.

“ _Of course I did_ ,” Hanamaki tells him, “because all girls are pretty to me.”

“Then you should have said so.”

Hanamaki shakes his head, _tsk_ ing even.

“Have you ever thought about how society pits women together? This fuels how beauty ends up being standardized into a single image of women with fair skin and thin waists.”

Matsukawa tilts his head, tapping his fingers on his desk idly. He likes it when Hanamaki starts voicing out his thoughts without really thinking about it because usually, this is how he thinks. Most of the time, they’re always sound and inquisitive.

He just wonders why it doesn’t explain why he’s just so fucking sleazy sometimes.

Hanamaki is now in full blown conversation with his own thoughts so Matsukawa lets him be, turning back to his desk and continues folding paper stars, homework right next to him remaining untouched. He likes the rhythm of the paper—carefully folding, pushing, pulling. Hanamaki’s voice is lulling in the background and it’s easier to concentrate on this than schoolwork.

He doesn’t really notice the quiet and when he turns, he jerks in a start when he sees Hanamaki sitting right next to him and staring at him intently.

“Jesus,” Matsukawa says shakily, shaking his head, “are you done?”

“So,” Hanamaki says conversationally, “do you think Oikawa is pretty?”

There’s a brief, awkward silence as Matsukawa stares at him in confusion, Hanamaki staring back without shame.

“W-Why are you asking me this?” Matsukawa wants to know.

Hanamaki shrugs. “It’s a comparison you know. This is what it’s like when a girl asks you _hey do you think that girl is pretty?_ Come on.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Then _what’s the problem?_ Answer the question.”

Matsukawa’s eyebrows pinch in thought, lips pouting as he tries wording it out.

“He is good-looking, though? He keeps reminding us all the time. I’m not blind, Makki.” Matsukawa chuckles.

Hanamaki wonders why he had to ask the question when he knows what the answer is gonna be and for a moment, he feels like he’s drifting in space as he’s watching the little nose scrunch Matsukawa is doing like it’s the most entertaining thing he’s ever seen.

He’s not dumb anyway; Oikawa really is beautiful. Annoying and downright evil, but beautiful. Nobody’s perfect. Of course Matsukawa thinks the same way.

 _This is why_ , Hanamaki has a sudden epiphany, _this is why I wouldn’t want to hear answers to that question as well._

He must be staring at Matsukawa long enough because the latter looks like he’s about to comment about it and Hanamaki panics, grabbing his phone out of nowhere and speed dialing Iwaizumi by accident.

“What?” Iwaizumi sounds rightfully disgruntled.

“Matsukawa is Mr. Steal-Your-Boyfriend,” Hanamaki blurts out and Matsukawa squawks in disbelief.

“OK,” Iwaizumi says and promptly hangs up.

They both stare at Hanamaki’s phone as it beeps angrily until Hanamaki sets it back down.

“I can’t believe you snitched on me under five minutes,” Matsukawa shakes his head in disapproval.

“It was just a question of time.”

Matsukawa snorts, turning back to his stars. He has really nice hands, Hanamaki observes. His thoughts are really going there.

“You know,” Matsukawa says suddenly and Hanamaki tears his gaze away from Matsukawa’s hands forcibly, to his face, “that question is just a roundabout way of them asking you to compliment them. Like, do you think _that_ person’s pretty? What about me?” Matsukawa chuckles, eyeing Hanamaki with a raised eyebrow. He looks at him from head to toe and continues laughing softly in amusement. “You’re not so bad, yourself.”

Hanamaki makes a choking noise.

“I’m not fishing for compliments!” He says indignantly, “And you don’t have to tell me that because—!”

“—you know you are, yep, I know,” Matsukawa interrupts easily, grinning. He gathers the stars he made in his palms and gently puts it inside Hanamaki’s jar. “It’s not so bad to hear it come from other people, once in a while though.” He peeks at Hanamaki sideways and honest to god _winks._

Hanamaki’s cheeks are burning and he has the strangest urge to punch Matsukawa. Or hold his face for a moment. Or hold his hand, whatever the fuck comes first. It’s confusing.

Matsukawa shakes the mason jar in inspection.

“You only have eight hundred stars to worry about,” he sounds very pleased.

Amusement looks good on him. The little smile, the smug demeanor. It’s all very Matsukawa minus the sarcastic little shit he sometimes becomes.

Matsukawa draws his chair back, stretching his arms out and he yawns loudly. Runs his hand through his hair and pushes back his glasses on top of his head before rubbing at his eyes.

“Ah, I’m sleepy this is bad. I still have homework…” he complains under his breath.

Hanamaki watches him with fascination and in his head, there are blinking warning signs of _oh no_ and _what is going on_ running in a funny little marquee.

What’s going on? He has no idea, he has no idea at all.

“Are you okay?” Matsukawa asks and Hanamaki has to blink thrice to remember where he is.

“Sure, yeah.”

 

He is, by all means, a walking clickbait article.

(Developing A Sudden Crush On Your Best Friend Of Several Years: The Realization Will Shock You! or whatever social media journalists come up with these days.)

Funnily enough, it was something he could laugh off at first, disbelieving despite his stomach curdling whenever a smile is directed his way. Deny, deny, deny until he’s staring at his fretful reflection in the mirror and thinking, _who the fuck are you kidding?_

It’s a goddamn disaster that’s what it is.

 

It doesn’t help how Matsukawa is just so oblivious to attraction either. Hanamaki watches him do a run up for a serve and several girls in the balcony start squealing at him in support. He doesn’t even bat an eye. He does however, look up to them once he finishes his serve and smiles politely.

 _My interests lie elsewhere_ , he said. But…where _exactly?_

“You know,” Iwaizumi says, suddenly appearing out of nowhere by his left. He’s holding a clipboard again. He hasn’t let go of that since. “I don’t really care if you’re fighting with Eyebrows over there but I still need to make sure both of you’ll stay after practice to discuss about that wretched butler café we’re doing.”

Hanamaki almost interrupts him, choking.

“Fighting?” His voice is suspiciously high pitched. “Who’s fighting?”

Iwaizumi gives him a withering look.

“Oh, sure those glares you’re giving him is the epitome of friendship.”

Wow. “Huh.”

“Anyway—”

“Huh.”

Iwaizumi is still talking but he’s barely listening now. His gaze drifts towards Oikawa who’s in the other side of the court, hooting at Kyoutani in an attempt to tease him. Kyoutani is standing stiffly, holding on to a ball like a lifeline and looking amusingly trapped.

A glint catches Hanamaki’s eye—it’s the ring Oikawa’s wearing as a pendant around his neck. Usually he hides it underneath his shirt but it must have slipped out this time.

Iwaizumi is still babbling. His own pendant is hidden under his shirt although Hanamaki can see the silver chain around his neck.

“—so I suggested pastries would be good for the menu because what better use for Matsukawa’s hobby right? Fucker just smirked at me when I mentioned it—”

“Iwaizumi,”

“—shouldn’t have bothered. Kunimi says he can handle tea as well since he has a collection of teacups? You know what, I don’t even wanna know—”

“ _Iwaizumi_ ,”

Iwaizumi smacks the clipboard on his palm, in his own world still.

“What is with the people in our team anyway? Only Watari is decent. What are we…?”

Hanamaki looks heavenward.

“How on earth did you manage to get a boyfriend?”

Iwaizumi snaps to look at him pointedly, scowling.

Matsukawa comes by and abruptly leans against Hanamaki heavily, a sweaty and chatty presence. Hanamaki stiffens when he puts an arm around him and tries not to squirm when he feels the rumble of Matsukawa’s laughter.

“You know what they say about the lure of the devil—”

“Go on, finish it I dare you,”

“We always seem to have this kind of relationship somehow,” he turns to Hanamaki, practically right at his ear, “don’t you think?”

Iwaizumi sends him a glare but turns his eyes back to his clipboard eventually.

“It’s not just about _you_ when getting a boyfriend,” he grumbles, “someone has to like you back too. That’s how it works.”

“Lucky me,” Hanamaki deadpans.

Iwaizumi gives them both a _look_.

“I better see you both at that meeting later god help me if we practically destroy everything again.”

“Last year,” Matsukawa whispers in Hanamaki’s ear, ominous. He’s suddenly so close and Hanamaki shivers inadvertently.

“Th-Th—yeah. Yeah. Meeting.” Hanamaki wheezes. “Later.”

Iwaizumi’s _look_ stays but he finally moves away.

So does Matsukawa, but he’s grinning.

Hanamaki scowls. “You made me all gross and sweaty.”

The grin turns mischievous. “Oh, did I?”

“DON’T.”

Matsukawa cackles before ducking away to resume serving. Hanamaki watches him go and interestingly, his heart is pounding, his cheeks feeling flushed. Absolutely not.

No fucking way.

 

He doesn’t really get a lot of alone time with Oikawa than what others might think but somehow whenever he does, Oikawa is almost always smiling that small smile of sniveling little shit.

He can feel it way across the room, even with his back turned. Somehow, they’re the only ones in the locker room, having finished showering while the others take their turn. Usually, Oikawa takes an exaggeratedly long time to finish though only to piss off Iwaizumi. But for some reason, he had forgone all possibilities of annoying his boyfriend tonight and decided to sit back and enjoy seeing Hanamaki squirm under his gaze.

Hanamaki can feel it. Like an itch.

He buttons his shirt slowly, meticulous before turning around and watching Oikawa wiggle his eyebrows at him at the end of the room. He’s straddling a chair, leaning his chin on the backside.

“Did I do something wrong?” Hanamaki wonders to the world in general.

“They sure take a long time, don’t they?” Oikawa says.

Hanamaki walks to the bench and sits down.

“Huh. Isn’t that…funny.”

Oikawa smiles wider.

“How’s your question and answer stage going?”

Hanamaki thinks he might’ve blacked out for a moment before he looks up, frowning.

“My what?”

“You know your ‘hey how you doin? My hobby is going after a ball and making sure it doesn’t touch the ground what’s yours?’ stage with your significant other,”

Goddamn it. Hanamaki sighs.

“You know about that huh?”

“Someone might’ve…hmm…mentioned it in…hmm…passing…”

“Matsukawa.”

Oikawa makes a high-pitched noise of denial. Hanamaki sighs yet again.

“Look, Oikawa, unlike your handsome self, some of us have to work for it.”

Oikawa clasps his fingers under his chin, waiting.

“Go on,” he says, pleased. “So?”

“So…” Hanamaki makes a circular motion with his hand in explanation, “it’s a slow process for m—do I really have to spell this out?”

Oikawa starts straight up giggling in amusement, leaning back on his chair and Hanamaki has an irrational wish that he’d fall off.

“Not at all, you just went ahead and got on with it,” he chortles.

“You know I kind of understand Iwaizumi now.”

“Sweet, understanding Iwa-chan,” Oikawa croons affectionately. There’s a small pause as Oikawa hums to himself. “Are answering questions all you’ve been doing?”

Hanamaki raises his eyebrows.

“Give yourself some credit,” Oikawa beams. “How are you supposed to know each other that way? You have to ask something in return.”

Hanamaki narrows his eyes.

“Are you checking me out?” Oikawa wants to know.

“Are you seriously giving me romantic advice?” Hanamaki says.

Just then, Iwaizumi decides to step in the moment the words leave his mouth and he looks a bit disturbed.

“Hi, sweet pea!” Oikawa says in an (absolutely) fake honeyed voice.

“Suspicious.” Iwaizumi mumbles before moving to his locker.

Oikawa laughs, winking at Hanamaki then standing up to go bother Iwaizumi.

Hanamaki thinks about it real hard actually.

 

“Should we watch…,” Matsukawa begins, scrolling through the movie list and squinting through his glasses. Somehow, movie marathons still feel rewarding despite the looming responsibilities and the fact that it’s a school day. Matsukawa should just stop having the house to himself, that would be the solution. “… _Pacific Rim_ OR _Battleship Island_?”

“You drive a hard bargain there,” Hanamaki says, walking from the kitchen and holding on to the large bowl of popcorn like it’s his firstborn.

“So… _Pacific Rim_?”

Hanamaki sits down right next to Matsukawa as the latter shifts between two movies.

“Hmm…” Hanamaki says, prolonging the sound.

Matsukawa looks at him pointedly, unamused.

“ _Battleship Island_ , then?”

Hanamaki repeats the noise.

“ _Goddamnit,_ Hanamaki.”

Hanamaki hands him the bowl of popcorn and takes over.

“ _Zootopia,_ ” he says, simply.

“No.”

“Yes,” Hanamaki says and plays the movie anyway.

Matsukawa sighs but makes no further complaints, leaning back and hugging the popcorn bowl. He looks really cozy, wearing green pajamas but his hair is sticking out in several places and he doesn’t seem bothered by it.

“Are we still simulating date night?” Matsukawa asks just as Hanamaki is scarfing down popcorn and he promptly chokes on it.

“WHAT,” Hanamaki exclaims, too loudly than he intends, “I mean, _sure?_ B-But there’s nothing wrong with learning about societal discrimination and all the stereotypes that are factored in those awful standards, all of it sewn into a children’s movie.”

He’s breathing hard as he finishes, flustered and Matsukawa waits for him to finish, smiling to himself.

“Sure,” Matsukawa says, “typical date night. Nothing wrong with it at all. I only asked because we’ve watched this movie about five times.”

“YES,”

“Gotcha,” Matsukawa says as Hanamaki takes the popcorn from him.

Hanamaki frowns at the screen in what Matsukawa assumes as concentration so he keeps his mouth shut until Hanamaki inhales in frustration, making Matsukawa jump.

“What—”

“Shh.”

“O-Okay. Um.” Matsukawa rubs the back of his head, unsure. “Do you have any questions for me?” That’s what’s bothering him right?

Wrong. Hanamaki stiffens and he slowly looks at Matsukawa.

“Oikawa was weird today,” he says.

Matsukawa’s eyebrows crumple.

“More than usual?”

Eyes back to the screen though he doesn’t seem to be watching the movie at all.

“Not sure. Hey, Issei—”

“I love how we keep going off tangent with no explanation whatsoever.”

“Hey, Issei.”

“What?”

“If you could ask your potential lover anything what would you ask?”

The question takes Matsukawa aback, has him opening and closing his mouth stupidly before deciding to just keep it closed. Hanamaki’s eyes are wide with intrigue and Matsukawa wonders if this has anything to do with Oikawa whatsoever.

“Um,” Matsukawa says, eyes not leaving Hanamaki, “well I don’t have any…potential lovers, sorry.”

Hanamaki shakes his head indignantly.

“If you did,” he insists.

Matsukawa is sweating. Has the room always been this warm?

“Why are we doing this exactly?”

“Pretend it’s like a survey.”

“Uhuh.”

Hanamaki, despite being so close, still somehow manages to kick him in the shin.

“Come on, Issei!”

He has that face on, the one where he’s scowling and thinking hard, fists pumped up in anticipation and Matsukawa chuckles. He’s so easy to tease like this.

“I can’t think of any,” Matsukawa says, smiling wide.

Hanamaki groans, lolling his head back on the couch in frustration. The kicks return.

“There has to be _something!_ ”

Matsukawa laughs in earnest this time. He pushes his glasses back, knowing full well it’ll make his hair stick out in weird places even more. Beside him, Hanamaki is grumbling and making angry noises although for some reason, Matsukawa thinks that frustration isn’t directed at him at all.

“If I did have questions,” Matsukawa says quietly and Hanamaki immediately sits up, eyes wide. Matsukawa winks. “I wouldn’t tell you that.”

Matsukawa thinks Hanamaki’s answering gasp is a bit too dramatic, his jaw dropping and his hands coming up to his chest in offense. He looks like the picture of utter betrayal.

“ _Why not?_ ” Hanamaki wheezes.

Matsukawa laughs softly, reaching out a hand and quickly, flicks him on the forehead. Hanamaki yelps, flinching in surprise and his hands go to his forehead. His shocked expression makes Matsukawa smile crookedly.

“You’re not my lover,” he tells Hanamaki simply.

The betrayed look again, this time, with a pout and when Matsukawa sees it, his self-discipline starts rolling downhill.

“But we’re simulating, I just wanna know I’m not gonna answer it…” Hanamaki mumbles through the pout though he seems like he’s coming to terms with the disappointing outcome.

Matsukawa looks at him and _god._  God. Why does he have to be so fond? What kind of curse is this?

Matsukawa makes a face and Hanamaki wants to frown again. Eventually, it turns into an intense staring contest and Matsukawa blinks first.

“Alright, fake lover, I’ll tell you what questions I have,” Matsukawa sighs in defeat as Hanamaki whoops loudly, sitting up straighter. He gathers his legs and hugs them, looking at Matsukawa with interest. Matsukawa looks back at him as though he’s looking for something and he can’t figure out what.

“What’s the first thing you think of when you wake up in the morning?” Matsukawa says carefully.

Hanamaki tilts his head, bewildered. That was unexpected.

“I’m gonna ask them that,” Matsukawa continues.

Hanamaki chews on his lip as he thinks about it. It’s not odd but it’s not exactly romantic either.

“But…why?”

Matsukawa shrugs. “Says a lot about a person I think, what they think about first in the morning.”

“That really depends on the situation you know that right?” Hanamaki puts one hand on his hip. “I mean you wouldn’t wake up all bright and sunshine when you have a test that day, _right?_ ” He hazards.

Matsukawa beams. “Nothing like waking up to a well-pronounced swear,”

“Oh shut up.” Hanamaki rolls his eyes and begins to lean away and when he does, Matsukawa grabs his arm.

“I’m not yet done,” he says.

“What?”

“I’m gonna ask them,” Matsukawa lets him go, “do you believe in love at first sight?”

Hanamaki cringes and Matsukawa bursts out laughing.

“That’s so greasy!”

“It’s so not—it’s a classic!”

Hanamaki puts his head in his hands as Matsukawa continues cackling in delight.

“This is embarrassing,” Hanamaki groans.

“I have one more,” Matsukawa says, gamely, raising a finger, “one last.”

“Ugh, no more if it’s greasy again I swear I’ll get out—”

“Come on, come on,” Matsukawa singsongs, pulling down Hanamaki’s hands from his face and holding onto them when Hanamaki resists. Matsukawa grins, “Makki—”

“NO, I REGRET THIS—”

“—do you like me?”

All the air whooshes out of Hanamaki’s lungs and when he stares at Matsukawa, his speech goes away too. There’s an uncomfortably warm sensation in his chest and for a second, there’s confusion—what the hell is going on—and Matsukawa’s looking at him so intently Hanamaki almost thinks he’s asking him for real.

Almost. The uncomfortable sensation in his chest turns out to be his heart pounding erratically and all the blood is rushing to his cheeks. He wants to cover them with his hands but Matsukawa just _won’t let go._

“T-That’s—”

“Gotta confirm first how they feel, right?” Matsukawa says, smugly.

What is this? Why did he ever think this was a good idea? The words are stuck in his throat and if his brain-to-mouth filter just fucking shuts down right there he might end up saying something ridiculous.

Like answering the question.

Saying yes.

“NO,” Hanamaki blurts out, taking himself _and_ Matsukawa aback, “I mean yes,” he quickly amends. “Yes. Definitely, yeah. Confirm. That is. Incredibly greasy.” Hanamaki shakes his head in disapproval.

Matsukawa just starts laughing again, leaning back like it’s the funniest thing ever.

“It’s okay,” he rasps once he finishes, glancing at Hanamaki with a small little smile, “I think they won’t mind.”

 

+

 

Because they end up all night finishing _Zootopia_ —Matsukawa trying to be funny by pausing it every five seconds and Hanamaki having stopped caring entirely—Matsukawa ends up conked out on Hanamaki’s desk during lunch break, taking up the entirety of the space much to Hanamaki’s indignance.

(“What is this? You have your own desk!” He actually yells when Matsukawa makes himself comfortable. He hasn’t even taken his lunch out yet and Matsukawa is already draping his blazer all over the desk and lying down on it.

“Good night.” Matsukawa says and starts snoozing.)

Hanamaki ends up holding up his lunch box on Matsukawa’s head, the pettiest revenge he can think of since he was part of the reason for Matsukawa’s lack of sleep anyway.

He watches Matsukawa’s even breathing, counts down the number of people peeking at them curiously and when the number surpasses ten, Hanamaki only realizes they’re staring because literal paper stars are dropping from the side of the table.

Hanamaki almost jumps away, freaked out, not at all bothered that he might wake Matsukawa up, and belatedly realizes the stars are coming from the side pocket of Matsukawa’s blazer that’s hanging on the side of the table.

Hanamaki _tsk_ s. “Honestly,” he says and bends down to gather the stars on the floor. There’s a good number of them and he discovers even more in Matsukawa’s other side pocket.

He looks at Matsukawa’s sleeping form—his face serene and closed eyelids fluttering every now and then—almost in disbelief. Where does he even get the time to make all these stars? Is he turning this into a fucking competition? Hanamaki’s not about to lose.

So he takes out his own colorful strips of paper, cackling to himself. He’s going to make the best goddamn paper stars there are for sure. It’s a nice rhythm, the folding of paper, the turning, forming the edges of the star. All this with the soothing noise of Matsukawa’s breathing and Hanamaki feels like he could fall asleep too.

He places the finished stars around Matsukawa, on his hair, on his eyelashes and he thinks about the _questions_. Out of nowhere.

What _does_ he think of first thing in the morning? It’s a little hard to pinpoint. He doesn’t really wake up like a fairytale and usually he doesn’t even remember what day it is the moment he opens his eyes until it just comes down to him in one fell swoop.

This is not romantic at all, he shakes his head.

 _What was next…ah,_ Hanamaki inclines his head, almost pinching the edge of a star too thinly. Love at first sight? Please, he’d start snickering honestly. For Oikawa, maybe but for him? He doesn’t know about “first sight”. There are a lot of ways to fall in love. You fall in love with how a baker puts out a new batch of pastries or how a florist arranges a bouquet. You fall in love with how someone walks in the street and continue to fall in love with them when they cross it. It’s not first sight it just…keeps going.

Hanamaki scoffs and places a star right on top of Matsukawa’s nose.

_Do you like me?_

Hanamaki’s fingers automatically fold in on themselves, crumpling the strip of paper inadvertently as he hisses under his breath. Not this again. Matsukawa isn’t even _awake._

 _How bold_ , Hanamaki thinks and he’s envious because he can never ask someone this directly.

But Matsukawa has always been pretty bold. Ironic how he’s secretive and open at the same time and yet sometimes Hanamaki feels he can’t read him.

Matsukawa wakes up from his nap before the break ends and he looks utterly bewildered why he’s covered in stars and why one of them is stuck on his nostril. He sits up slowly, grumbling to himself as he carefully takes off all the stars on him.

It’s very endearing.

“What’s going on—?” He sees Hanamaki grinning at him and he blinks slowly, the drowsiness slowly fading. Despite the haze of sleep, he still manages to smirk at him.

Hanamaki holds stars in his heart.

“Morning, loser.”

 

They don’t exactly learn to keep movie marathons out on school nights since they find themselves in Hanamaki’s couch this time, Matsukawa domineering over the remote and wagging it in front of Hanamaki’s face.

“We’re gonna watch _Battleship Island_ and there’s nothing you can do about it,” he says, smug.

“This is the worst day of my life,” Hanamaki deadpans, head lolling from the edge of the couch. He scoots to the far end of the couch when Matsukawa makes himself comfortable, looking so proud of himself, and rests his feet on Matsukawa’s lap.

“Not my fault you’re scared of blood,” Matsukawa says, cheerily.

“Not just about blood in this movie, you know?” Hanamaki says. “I mean, why were our ancestors so shitty back then?”

“Beats me. Still shitty _now,_ ” Matsukawa snorts. His hands tap on Hanamaki’s legs absentmindedly as the movie starts playing.

This would be a wildly inappropriate time to be checking out his best friend’s hands yet again but here he was. Hanamaki watches Matsukawa’s long fingers drumming on his leg, entranced. Out of everyone he knows, save for Oikawa since he always seems to be exceptional at things, Matsukawa would be the one to have the title for prettiest hands.

Despite the calluses, his hands are relatively flawless and Hanamaki wonders if he should’ve opted to be a middle blocker back then instead. The always seem to be busy doing things too—drumming on tables, baking, fidgeting, making paper stars…

Hanamaki bolts upright.

“Hey, Issei?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you seen my jar?”

Matsukawa raises his eyebrows. “Your jar?”

“My aesthetic jar for the paper stars.”

Matsukawa’s expression relaxes into a smile.

“I see. It was in my room I think. I’ll give it back to you, don’t worry.”

 

True enough, when he does give it back, Hanamaki doesn’t quite expect it to be given exactly how he gave it to him the first time. That rather gentle slam, right onto Hanamaki’s desk. Hanamaki looks at it, frozen. This time, it’s not empty. The large mason jar is filled to the brim with stars.

“Congratulations,” Matsukawa says with a pleased flourish of his hand, “you’re now one of those aesthetic people.”

“Me? But—” Hanamaki takes the jar and twists the top off, sees the colorful, overflowing stars inside and oddly, he feels like crying. “But you—”

“Only a bit, don’t worry,” Matsukawa says, smiling. He shoves his hand in his pocket, looking a bit abashed, “you did half of it, honestly so…”

“You…” Hanamaki is still staring at the jar, chest tightening. He tips it over and he gets overwhelmed by the sheer number of stars on his desk. “This is my wish.”

“Yeah,” Matsukawa says, voice unbelievably soft. He’s smiling, right at Hanamaki and when Hanamaki meets his eye, it’s so disarming and he can’t speak. “Now you have to find another wish.”

He’s about to start crying right there.

“Well, anyway that’s all I wanted to tell you,” Matsukawa says, turning back into the same sarcastic shit that Hanamaki knows, “I better go—” and he turns to leave.

Hanamaki shoots out of his chair and grabs Matsukawa’s sleeve before he can move even further and Matsukawa looks back at him, startled.

“You absolute fucker,” Hanamaki says through his teeth, heart still pounding, “granting my wish like that. Who are you, Santa Claus? Gimme another wish of yours, come on, hand it over.”

Matsukawa rolls his eyes.

“Look, it’s okay.”

“You can’t argue with me.”

“You misunderstand the concept of giving.”

“It’s an equivalent exchange! Have you not watched _Fullmetal_?”

Matsukawa laughs, nods. He pats Hanamaki’s hand, gently prying his fingers off his sleeve.

“It’s really okay, alright? I promise. No harm done.”

Hanamaki clenches his fist in earnest.

“I’ll make sure you see the goddamn school festival fireworks even if it’s the last thing I do.”

Matsukawa chuckles, shakes his head.

“Alright. I’ll count on you for that, huh?”

 

With the school festival drawing near and the pressure of the booths getting greater, so does Iwaizumi’s competitiveness.

“God _forbid_ Oikawa embarrass us again, am I right?” Iwaizumi says in a booming voice, pacing in front of them all authoritatively. It’s another one of his meetings although this is the final gathering of everything else. Everyone yells back their encouragement and assent while Oikawa shrieks in anger.

Plans are laid out, the menu and decorations sorted, the suits prepared, and everyone gets equally disturbed and amazed by the sheer quantity of Kunimi’s collection of teacups.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa immediately bolts for it when they get the chance, skipping out of the locker room and heading home once they see an already subdued Iwaizumi and they share a snicker the entire time, keeping their laughter quiet.

“For someone who initially hated it,” Hanamaki is chortling, rubbing his hands for warmth in front of his face, “Iwaizumi’s sure so _into_ it.”

“It’s part of the stages of grief I think, acceptance.”

“You get to be cook too,”

Matsukawa shrugs. “I’m not mad at it.”

They sit in comfortable silence, listening to the soft noises of the night and the chirping of the crickets. They almost make it to their street when Matsukawa speaks again.

“How are you and Mahiru these days?” Matsukawa asks. His voice is soft, unreadable and Hanamaki almost didn’t catch it.

The question catches him off guard. He _hasn’t_ been talking to Mahiru these days at all save for the little hellos they share in the hallway every time they see each other. It shouldn’t even matter that much, should it? There are no questions, no need to meet expectations.

It’s not really that big of a priority now as it should be.

“Huh,” Hanamaki breathes, looking down at his feet, “I wonder too.”

 

When the day of the school festival rolls in, a healthy amount of last minute panic settles on each of them and Hanamaki watches the rest of them blankly as they zoom in and out of the classroom they’re using, like black and white penguins.

Hanamaki is tying his tie, the others arranging the tables, the final touches of the decorations. In the corner where a huge bean bag has been placed for lounging, Oikawa is sitting with sunglasses on, in his full butler uniform with legs crossed and hands clasped around his knees and he hasn’t moved for the last twenty minutes so Hanamaki’s sure he’s definitely sleeping.

Matsukawa, for some reason, is uncharacteristically late.

“ _Where is he?_ ” Iwaizumi hisses at some point when he passes by and really, he could mean anybody but he looks rather disheveled and his tie is on backwards. Hanamaki doesn’t have the heart to tease him.

Hanamaki shrugs, apologetic.

“I dunno, I called Issei earlier but he wasn’t answering.”

That is of course, until Matsukawa comes slamming the door open, looking disheveled himself and breathing hard as though he ran all the way from here. He holds on to the door for dear life, his suit jacket slung over his arm and he loosens his collar to breathe. He quickly runs a hand through his hair to make it tidy.

“Sorry,” he pants, walking over to them. “I woke up late,” he says.

He’s wearing his glasses.

“Oh, good you’re here,” Iwaizumi says, immediately sounding like a boulder has been lifted off his shoulders. He thrusts an apron to Matsukawa and pats him on the arm. “And you’re dressed already. Somewhat. Whatever, that’s fine.”

Hanamaki makes a choking noise and they both turn to look at him.

“I gotta go,” Iwaizumi says, quickly. “Have you seen Oikawa?” He asks Kindaichi, who passes by.

Matsukawa is still looking at him, breathing better now.

“What is _that?_ ” He says suddenly, stepping closer and pointing at Hanamaki’s bowtie.

Hanamaki’s flustered at once, covering it with his hand defensively.

“You can’t disrespect me not when you’re looking like that,”

Matsukawa rolls his eyes and takes Hanamaki’s hand off, fixing the tie right away.

“Shut up,” he says, “sorry I couldn’t accept your call I was er, sleeping.”

He’s really close. They don’t have much height difference at all but when Matsukawa is leaning this way, his face is _right there_ and his collarbones are right smack in view and Hanamaki doesn’t really know where to put his eyes. He opts for Matsukawa’s own bowtie that’s been stuffed hastily in his breast pocket.

“Uhuh,” Hanamaki says. How come he smells so good? He was running _late._

Hanamaki is sweating by the time Matsukawa steps away. He still hasn’t buttoned up his shirt.

“Button up your shirt,” he hears his mouth say much to his horror.

Matsukawa blinks then laughs, hand coming up to his chest. He looks pretty breathless still, cheerful for someone tardy.

He looks really good too.

“Right,” Matsukawa says and gets on it, putting on his jacket afterwards.

“You’re wearing glasses,” Hanamaki says.

“Yeah, horrifying right? I was in a hurry.”

Hanamaki doesn’t know much about the horrifying bit.

They get rounded up by Iwaizumi sometime afterwards, final preparations done and done and when the guests start arriving—in rather intimidating batches of squealing girls looking for Oikawa—Hanamaki doesn’t get the time to ogle at Matsukawa as he gets whisked away by orders coming left and right.

Matsukawa looks terribly at ease in their makeshift kitchen, singlehandedly maneuvering a skillet as he flips a pancake, other hand on his hip. Yahaba is with him, busy with a batch of petit fours.

When Hanamaki peeks in, he clears his throat before his thoughts start drifting elsewhere again.

“Hey, Chef Loser,” he says and Matsukawa looks at him over his shoulder, “how much longer for the pancakes?”

Matsukawa holds up an OK sign. “Give me five minutes,” he says.

Five minutes it is. Hanamaki goes back to the table where two girls are seated. They wave at him when he comes back and he smiles politely. He doesn’t know their names but he’s sure they’re in the same year, in Matsukawa’s class, probably.

“Five minutes more for the pancakes, my apologies for the wait,” Hanamaki says, sweetly. “We’re a little short-staffed.”

The girls laugh, one of them holding up a hand.

“It’s alright, Hanamaki-kun,” she says, “we really wanted to come anyway.”

“It was about time you did a butler café too,” the other says. Her words are punctuated with squeals from a table to his left and Hanamaki doesn’t have to look up to know Oikawa is the server.

Hanamaki flashes his best smile, the one he reserves for friends.

“Well, I’m sincerely hoping you’ll enjoy your time here,” he winks, earning him giggles.

They both nod, the second one covering her mouth with her hands bashfully.

“We will!” The first one says, apparently braver than her friend. “You all look so handsome and the decorations look very nice!”

Of course they are. Iwaizumi had even called up the other members who don’t play in court to put them all up, trying to renovate the entire classroom into looking like a café.

“Only the best for our lady,” Hanamaki says, chuckling. The girl blushes, looking away and her friend kicks her underneath the table as they both giggle.

Hanamaki wonders where all of this confidence is coming from. He’s also wondering where this confidence happened to be when he needed it the most just weeks ago.

“Pancakes for… _ah_ Mame-chan and Nemuri-cchi,”

Matsukawa’s deep voice comes floating in as he smoothly makes it to their table, surprising the girls _and_ Hanamaki. He’s not wearing his apron anymore but he’s not wearing his jacket either.

The girls look up at Matsukawa, gaping in pleasant surprise and the first girl—Mame-chan—blushes even further.

“T-Thank you,” she says.

“Matsukawa-kun!” Nemuri finally lets out her gasp, “I didn’t know you wore glasses!”

Matsukawa turns to Hanamaki and they share a knowing look, Matsukawa tilting his head in amusement in what is obviously an _I told you this is what would happen._ Hanamaki keeps his mouth shut, pursing his lips to hide a grin.

“I do in fact, wear glasses,” Matsukawa says with a flourish, setting down the plates and teacups on the table with surprising grace, “although most of the time, I wear it at home.”

“Consider it his alter-ego,” Hanamaki stage-whispers conspiringly.

“It suits you well,” Mame says, her voice hushed, still flustered.

“Oh, thank you very much.” Matsukawa bows, keeping an alluring crooked smile. He puts a hand on the small of Hanamaki’s back and slowly pushes him closer to him.

“We’ll leave you to enjoy your food now, have a nice time.” Matsukawa says and ultimately steers Hanamaki along with him, leaving giggles in their wake

“That went well,” Matsukawa says, chuckling as they enter their small kitchen. Kyoutani and Watari are there too now and Yahaba is assembling an éclair.

“You get along with just about everyone.” Hanamaki tells him, hanging around the entrance as Matsukawa puts on his apron again.

Matsukawa clicks his tongue. “Not so sure about that—ah, Kyoutani do I need to make omurice?”

“Issei,” Hanamaki says, sidling next to him despite the heat of the stove.

“Hmm?”

Hanamaki twiddles his thumbs, hesitant.

“Just wondering if you, somehow, have any other wish I could grant like—”

Matsukawa groans in complaint. “Makki, stop feeling so guilty about me finishing your stars.”

“In case you change your mind you know, you can tell me if you want food?”

“Makki—”

“Ice cream? A gf—?”

Matsukawa elbows him right in the gut as they both come down with laughter.

“What? I’m serious!” Hanamaki wheezes.

Matsukawa is still snorting, trying his best to hold it together.

“So am I! I don’t need you to do anything for me,”

“This is a once in a lifetime chance.”

“Fuck off! I’m cooking!” They break into tiny fits of laughter again as Matsukawa tries shooing him away. “Go be a butler or something!”

“Still a no go?”

“Go away!”

Hanamaki laughs, moving out. He’s high on laughter, his heart warm and he surveys the room and finds that everyone is doing well. It’s noisy but not unwelcome and all the tables are filled with blushing girls and even boys who’re curious about Matsukawa’s so called famous cooking.

He watches the others zoom to and fro the room looking for once, like actual professionals although he spies Oikawa sitting on Iwaizumi’s lap in the lounge area when he thinks no one else is watching.

He only notices the fairy lights strung by the window, lights very faint when the sun is still up high but aesthetically pleasing nevertheless.

“Oh! Hanamaki-kun?”

Hanamaki is quite proud of himself that his gasp goes inward although he’s not sure how he doesn’t drop the menu he’s holding.

Mahiru waves at him when she walks in, her friend trailing behind her and Hanamaki responds by waving back stiffly. Awkwardly. Oh god.

Mahiru has her hair down today, a rare occasion and she’s wearing her uniform. She looks plenty surprised to see Hanamaki’s outfit.

“You look so nice!” She says and it’s a goddamn miracle she doesn’t mention how red Hanamaki’s face is getting. “Oh wow, you all look so _good_ why can’t my own team dress this well…?”

Hanamaki laughs. “Hello, Mahiru-chan,”

She grins. “You’re gonna give our booth a run for our money at this rate.”

“Oh, yeah? I’ll keep it a secret that you’re both visiting then.”

“Will you? That’s very sweet. Helps a lot with what dignity my team has left.” Mahiru sighs and her friend laughs, elbowing her softly. Mahiru clasps her hands together, looking excited, “Anyway I heard you’re serving these amazing pancakes so we want to give it a try.”

When Hanamaki’s heart swells with pride, Mahiru isn’t who he sees.

He winks, “you bet.”

 

Hanamaki fucking runs to the kitchen, catches Matsukawa plating another batch of omurice.

“MAHIRU IS HERE,” he hisses.

Everyone pauses before awkwardly continuing their work.

Matsukawa smiles crookedly.

“Isn’t this your lucky day,” he says.

“You better make the best goddamn pancakes you’ve ever made or so help me.”

“Got it, boss.”

 

Matsukawa wonders for a second how Hanamaki is doing once he’s finished serving what he promises are the best pancakes he’s made to Mahiru and her friend, both looking at him in awe once again, mostly due to his glasses.

He usually doesn’t crave this much attention but he can’t really take them off either.

Matsukawa would expect Hanamaki to be entertaining Mahiru’s table the entire time, instead, he finds him seated in one of the chairs in the kitchen, staring at the pots and pans blankly.

He walks over to him as he wipes his hands with a towel.

“Are you alright?”

Hanamaki jumps. “Oh jesus,” he sputters, waving a hand away, “I’m—is she still there?”

Matsukawa raises an eyebrow.

“Mahiru? Yeah. Shouldn’t you be out there? You’re…question ready now or something,”

“Yeah, she’s really…” Hanamaki runs his hands over his face, perturbed, “pretty right? And funny?”

Matsukawa tilts his head. “Should I be worried?”

Hanamaki stands, face clearing for a moment.

“I’m having an epiphany,” he tells the room and grabs their crate full of used dishes. “I’m gonna wash the dishes.” He says before promptly striding out with their kitchenware.

“He sounds like my aunt,” Kyoutani says—Matsukawa forgetting he was even there—his arms white with flour, “who got cold feet on her wedding.”

“Stop that,” Yahaba snaps, looking apologetic.

Matsukawa glances towards where Hanamaki just left, wondering if he should follow.

“Excuse me?”

A voice obviously feminine asks and everyone in their makeshift kitchen freezes. Matsukawa doesn’t only for the reason that he’s flipping a pancake.

He turns though and to his surprise, Mahiru is peeking inside, looking embarrassed. When she sees Matsukawa, she brightens and beckons at him.

“Matsukawa-kun, can I talk to you for a second?”

 

+

 

Hanamaki supposes their plates don’t deserve this harsh treatment as Hanamaki scrubs at them with much more effort than necessary. He’s just thankful that he has the faucets to himself since he’s grumbling, trying to piece his epiphany together.

At one point he realizes his problems all start with the “Ma” syllable and he almost laughs maniacally to himself because come on, right? This has got to be a big Trick.

But it’s not? There’s Mahiru. Hanamaki admires her a _lot._  The kind of admiration that sends his brain nosediving into the nearest trashcan. He always liked how she constantly looks like she’s got every situation under control and how she’s never afraid to ask questions, presumably the reason why she’s the basketball team’s manager and…how she plagued Hanamaki with questions back then. But she’s always so pleasant, always with a clean sense which was why Hanamaki wanted to impress her.

He’s not really sure why he has to, still.

There’s Matsukawa. _God,_  Hanamaki has known him for ages why is it that he’s only thinking of this now? There’s literally nothing he can hold against Matsukawa either because everything he does is just so damn pleasant. He’s always there before Hanamaki even says a word, always indulging him with the dumbest things and now he just goes around looking like _that_ and god help Hanamaki if he even tries lying to himself that he’s not attracted to it all.

He nearly smashes a plate with his bare hands so he sets it down, turns the tap off and sinks to a squat right there feeling miserable. It’s a mess.

So what, right? He has a crush then? Tiny (growing) crush no big deal. It’s not like Matsukawa…needs to now. Definitely not. He can keep having feelings because he fucking can. He’s grown. Matsukawa can keep being a little shit and Hanamaki can keep harboring his little secret. Fantastic.

Hanamaki thinks his flawed plan can solve everything so he stands up again, still borderline hysterical but determined now as he grabs the plate. Perfect—

“Hanamaki-kun?”

The plate nearly meets its demise this time, Hanamaki quickly catching it and placing it back hurriedly onto the sink, with a swear.

“Oh, sorry,” Mahiru laughs apologetically, hands clasped together.

Hanamaki shakes his head. “No, no it’s okay.”

No. No it is not. He just had an epiphany literally minutes ago and it isn’t ready for sharing yet. He distracts himself by grabbing another plate to be washed.

Mahiru nods and steps closer, surveying the work Hanamaki has done, or at least the mess of it but she smiles and says nothing.

“Sorry it’s a mess,” Hanamaki tells her and she purses her lips in amusement.

“Not at all; it’s good work.”

 _How’d you find me? Why are you here? Do you need anything?_ Hanamaki wants to know but his mouth seems to be uncooperative this time.

“I asked Matsukawa-kun where you went since you disappeared,” Mahiru laughs softly as though Hanamaki’s thoughts are out in the open and he goes red.

“Nobody really likes doing the dishes.”

“I wanted to tell you something.” Mahiru says, quiet but still warm.

Oh no. Oh no no no.

Hanamaki sucks in a breath. _Welp, here we go._

“I have something to tell you too, actually.”

Mahiru raises her eyebrows.

“Is that so? Tell me then.”

“Uh,”

“Go on,”

Well then. Hanamaki sighs. “I’m not sure how to tell you, honestly. I feel like I’ve been overthinking about things too much and you probably felt creeped out about me at some point so sorry about that.” Hanamaki groans.

He’s not good at this. He’s not good at explaining. He’s _terrible_ at this. Hopefully he sounds like he means it? Because he really does, if anything, just this once.

“Anyway, bottomline is that I liked you—wait no, I still do? But? I mean I still admire you and all but it’s not exactly—that’s why I—if you’re mad—so I’m sorry that I was _like_ —” Somehow, the more he opens his mouth, the more he wants to dunk his head into soapy water.

“I know,” Mahiru says, smiling and Hanamaki expects her to be mad at some point. The _how dare you_ kind of way but she’s still smiling.

“Hng?”

“That you like me, I mean,” Mahiru laughs but not unkindly though Hanamaki’s gut still shrinks five sizes, “and I’m not mad at all you know? Why would I be? You’re very thoughtful and you take everything seriously I admire that.”

Hanamaki blinks, watches Mahiru carefully as she plays with her finger, a nervous habit.

“I thought you’d be angry with _me,_ ” she says softly.

Hanamaki actually leans back in surprise, not expecting this twist instead.

“What?”

Her eyebrows scrunch up, looking really sorry.

“See, I didn’t know how to tell you,” a pause, “I have a girlfriend.”

_What?_

“What?” Hanamaki’s hand goes to his mouth, soap be damned.

Mahiru lowers her head. “You know her—she came with me earlier. I didn’t know how to break it to you because you were so good to me and always so careful and I didn’t want you to feel bad. I should have told you the first thing but I think it would be awkward to say it out of nowhere,”

Hanamaki bangs his head on the sink.

“Oh, Mahiru, I’m so so—”

“Please don’t be sorry!” Mahiru interrupts quickly, flustered. “It’s my fault I was terrible I was thinking maybe if I could get you to dislike me at first, maybe get annoyed but you were still so kind in return I didn’t know what to do.”

She’s blushing but unlike him, she looks ten times better at it.

“So I thought maybe you’d like a friend of mine? I asked you about it but you,” Mahiru covers her face with her hands, “you were so nice about it I couldn’t even say anything else.”

_Oh god, Matsukawa._

“So I’m here to come clean because I don’t want you to think I’m playing around I really want to be your friend.” Mahiru says finally.

It’s a little funny, come to think of it.

Hanamaki lets out a short huff of laughter, shaking his head. At _himself._

“Mahiru, please I’m terribly sorry I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“No, really it’s okay—”

“And I was...flirting terribly and all—”

“You were fine, I promise.”

Hanamaki laughs again and Mahiru joins him this time.

“We’re pretty messy, aren’t we?” Mahiru admits and Hanamaki nods.

But he doesn’t feel bad. In fact he feels free. Relieved. No need to pretend anymore.

“Yeah, a little,” Hanamaki says. “I’m glad we talked though. Go and be free.”

Mahiru chuckles, Hanamaki nodding solemnly along.

“Don’t doubt yourself next time, alright? Just say things as it is. Love yourself.”

Mahiru beams. “Okay, Hanamaki-kun.” She bobs on her heels, pleased with how everything turned out. “So…friends?”

“Oh, definitely.”

“Alright. Also, do you need help washing those? You’ve been running that plate under the tap for twenty minutes now.”

 

+

 

“Yes?”

Matsukawa shoves his hands in his pocket, smiling warmly at Mahiru who looks oddly nervous.

 _To what do I owe the pleasure,_  Matsukawa thinks but he thinks it’s too condescending so he shuts it out.

Mahiru looks up at him, smiling too. She’s pretty small up close though probably not too small for Hanamaki. It doesn’t change the fact that she’s still really beautiful and she looks nice with her hair down.

“You’re close friends with Hanamaki-kun, right?” she asks him.

Matsukawa blinks, raising an eyebrow. Oh?

“I would assume so, yeah,” he laughs.

“I have to tell him something,” Mahiru says.

Matsukawa wishes he could sigh but it’s rude to do so. However, there’s nothing really like the crippling feeling in your stomach each time. So this is it. He knew it was coming anyway but there’s still nothing like it.

He clears his throat.

“I think he probably went downstairs he said he was gonna wash the dishes and the bigger faucets are in the first floor—”

Mahiru shakes her head when he starts to explain.

“No—I mean thanks for that but um, I wanted to tell you first. What I want to tell him, I mean.”

Goodness this just keeps getting better and better. Apparently one bullet to the heart isn’t enough.

He means to say— _practice, yeah? Okay then._

Or even— _go ahead, don’t worry_ because he’s generous as it is.

Instead, his stupid mouth just slacks and goes, “why?” in confusion and to the world for being cruel _twice._

Mahiru stares at his scowl (unintended and not meant to scare anybody but he’s just about ready to walk away from this classroom right now) and steels herself.

“I just thought,” she says, “if ever you’ll get mad at me I can get it over with once and for all then I can go to Hanamaki-kun. If he gets mad at me then it won’t be too bad anymore because I got over it already.”

Now Matsukawa’s even more confused.

“W-What’s there to be mad about…?”

Mahiru clasps her hands together. “Just promise to be mad _after_ I say it,”

Matsukawa laughs, pushing his glasses back on his head.

“It can’t be that bad, Mahiru-chan.”

“Oh, it is,” she says solemnly and looks ultimately apologetic. “I have a girlfriend.”

Matsukawa pushes his glasses too far back and it falls on the floor, forgotten.

He blinks, wonders if he’s dreaming.

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve had a girlfriend from the start,” Mahiru says, “and that seems really bad of me but I honestly didn’t know how to break it to Hanamaki-kun the first time he’s just so…good, you know? He always means well and he tries so hard each time.”

Matsukawa smiles, nodding slowly.

“I knew he liked me so at first I wanted to discourage him but uh, it didn’t quite go as expected.”

Matsukawa snorts. “He works too hard, huh?”

Mahiru looks sheepish. “Yeah. Then I tried to see if he’d like my friend better instead of me but that didn’t even work he was so nice to me!” She covers her face with her hands. “So I’m going to come clean to him now. I still want to be his friend even though he might get mad at me.”

Matsukawa’s quite amazed she let all that out in one go.

Mahiru looks at him, waiting, nodding then.

“Okay, you can get mad now.”

Matsukawa laughs. He takes his time to pick up his glasses, puts them on top of his head.

“Why would I be mad?” He asks.

Mahiru bites her lips.

“I should’ve told him outright,”

Matsukawa looks over to where the tables are. While they’re hidden from where they are in the corner of the kitchen, Matsukawa can still see the bustling outside. He sees Kindaichi looking quite shy, Oikawa practically in his prime as he’s showered with compliments.

“I think,” Matsukawa says, looking back at Mahiru with a kind smile, “you would have found that rude to do that’s why you didn’t say so. Your friend—she’s your girlfriend, right?”

Mahiru blushes.

“Yes. She knows. She thinks it’s a little funny.”

Matsukawa snorts. “Oh, it’s plenty funny. Go find Makki, okay?”

“But, Matsukawa-kun—”

“He’s not gonna be mad,” Matsukawa says. A little sad maybe but, well he’ll live. “I’ve only ever seen him mad when he loses a game or when someone brings up gender being a social construct, stuff like that.”

That makes Mahiru laugh. It feels nice, really.

“Thank you.” Mahiru says.

“Don’t worry about it,” Matsukawa says and he doesn’t watch her go.

 

+

 

“ _God_ ,” Hanamaki groans, plopping right next to Matsukawa once they get a short break in the afternoon. “After this I’m going to sleep for ten hours straight.”

Matsukawa watches Hanamaki rubbing the tiredness away from his face, wordlessly, Hanamaki looking disheveled from all the entertaining he’s done so far, proclaiming at some point that he’s never talked to that many people in the three years he’s been in school.

Hanamaki is grumbling to himself, pulling at his collar in complaint and Matsukawa leans over to help him, chuckling.

He can’t really tell how Hanamaki’s doing. When he came back from washing the dishes, presumably the aftermath, he looked oddly calm, still getting along easily with the others and smiling easily but that’s all he ever does anyway so Matsukawa can’t tell.

He didn’t make any mention of it either so he supposes Hanamaki doesn’t want to talk about it yet so he shuts his mouth.

“Do you know how many people I’ve served asking for your goddamn pancakes?” Hanamaki says, punching Matsukawa on the shoulder. “I swear it’s around fucking fifty.”

“I don’t see what the problem is when _I’m_ the one cooking.”

“I need you to turn down whatever magic you’re putting into those pancakes.”

Matsukawa snorts. “Yep.” He gets up and quickly strides to their mini refrigerator and retrieves the small Tupperware he was saving and walks back to dump it onto Hanamaki’s lap.

“Ow, that’s cold—! What…?”

Matsukawa sits back down, smug and nonchalant as Hanamaki turns the container around in inspection, eyes widening when he realizes what’s inside.

“I tried to see if I could make cream puffs here,” Matsukawa says, voice low like it’s a secret, “turns out I could but I decided not to put it out there so there you are.”

Hanamaki looks so shocked and happy his eyes are actually shining. He puts a hand over his chest, ready to pull out all the dramatics.

“Oh, Issei you—”

Matsukawa shoves him, laughing.

“ _Stop_ , you’re so disgusting when you’re happy.”

Hanamaki grins instead, hugging the Tupperware close.

“Thanks,” he says and leans on Matsukawa’s shoulder. Then he tells him stories, all the things he seen over the course of the day that Matsukawa didn’t having spent most of his time in the kitchen after all. He tells Matsukawa about one of Kunimi’s teacups nearly falling and seeing the light leave Kunimi’s eyes or how Oikawa managed to get an entire classroom’s worth of girls in as customers once he said all of them get to have a picture with him.

Matsukawa listens to his stories, smiles at all the nice things and he imagines in another life, he’d be holding his hand.

“Hey, Issei,” Hanamaki says, looking up at him from underneath his eyelashes.

“Hmm?”

“Let’s watch like, I dunno, _The Babadook_ after this.”

Matsukawa snorts, baps him on the head.

“Sure.”

 

The noise they make the moment Iwaizumi announces they’re finally closing is really just made up of tired individuals lying down on various places inside the room regardless of what surface they’re on. Matsukawa pumps a fist in the air in solidarity and Hanamaki nearly sobs in relief.

“I don’t want to see another human being again for the next three days,” Kunimi deadpans underneath the table.

“Good luck with that.” Iwaizumi says, somehow procuring a broom out of nowhere. Out of all of them, he’s the only one who still looks decent somehow. “Let’s start cleaning up so we can go to the bonfire later.”

“Ah, Iwaizumi-san,” Watari speaks up, rubbing the back of his neck. “I kind of promised to help with the bonfire but I need to return some of the equipment we borrowed so I need someone else to stand in.”

Iwaizumi raises his eyebrows.

“Oh? Hanamaki will go then.”

“WHAT,” Hanamaki groans from where he’s leaning heavily on Matsukawa. “Iwaizumi, you bitch.”

Iwaizumi shrugs, unapologetic.

“Do it for the team,” Matsukawa whispers to his ear, cackling.

“You too. You’re a jerk.”

Matsukawa keeps nudging him until he finally moves, complaining the entire time.

“But, Issei,” Hanamaki whines, “the _fireworks._ ”

Matsukawa smiles. Of course.

“The fireworks aren’t running away, Makki. Go on ahead, it’s okay.”

Hanamaki scowls at him, makes a face that clearly says _I’m watching_ , making Matsukawa laugh again before he finally relents and leaves.

The rest of them work quite quickly afterwards, cleaning up fast and returning things they’ve borrowed so that they’re nearly done once the sun starts setting. Matsukawa stays even when the others start going ahead, having finished their part.

Finally, only Iwaizumi, Oikawa, and Matsukawa are left behind, Iwaizumi waiting for Oikawa outside the door really while the other continues tinkering with the boxes they’ve put their materials in. Matsukawa is still cleaning the mess that was once their makeshift kitchen though it only takes about twenty minutes before Oikawa finally becomes suspicious.

Matsukawa sighs, peers over his shoulder. Oikawa is hunched over a box, working on something with determination and taking so much time they could both hear Iwaizumi’s impatient foot tapping echoing outside. Matsukawa puts his rag down.

He squats down next to Oikawa and the latter freezes as though caught in a crime. He’s holding on to one of Kunimi’s teacups in his hand.

“Hey, Captain,” Matsukawa says, “this is really suspicious.”

Oikawa makes a silent noise of despair, carefully dropping the teacup back into the box and grabs hold of Matsukawa’s arm, yanking desperately.

“Mattsun, _can you keep a secret?_ ”

Matsukawa winces. “Oh, Oikawa what did you do?”

“I call this one _gravity._ ” Oikawa says and points inside the box.

The box is entirely filled with Kunimi’s collection of teacups, all neatly packed. Save for the topmost of the pile where Oikawa is pointing at. To Matsukawa’s horror, feeling his fingers going actually numb, at least three of the fancy teacups have handles that had been cleanly snapped from the body.

Matsukawa blanches, gingerly holding a blue, foral one with gold trimmings. At least the break isn’t ugly, could be fixed by simple gluing and nobody would notice.

Oikawa looks at it pityingly. Matsukawa’s trying to imagine Kunimi’s utterly heartbroken expression when he finds this is what happened to his teacups and thinks of some way to salvage the situation.

“Oikawa, will you take much longer?” Iwaizumi calls from outside, exasperated and Oikawa jumps.

“Mattsun,” he sobs.

Matsukawa releases an ever so tired breath, patting Oikawa on the back.

“It’s okay don’t worry. It just needs a little glue I think we have superglue somewhere around I’ll do it.”

Oikawa looks up at him, eyebrows crinkling with worry.

“But Mattsun,”

“We don’t want to destroy your important hands, do we?” Matsukawa remarks, snorting. He gestures for Oikawa to stand and move. “Now go so it’ll be quick.”

“But what about you?”

“What on earth does that even mean I don’t need to be babied.”

Oikawa’s mouth curls downwards but he finally stands.

“But the fireworks.”

“Stop saying but just go.”

Oikawa takes a step backward.

“I’m really going.”

“Yeah.”

And another. “I’m really going out there.”

“ _Yes,_ okay, Oikawa.”

“I’m really about to turn around—”

Matsukawa looks up, hands still cradling the chipped teacup.

“Oh,” he says.

Oikawa stops immediately, turning back around, perking up.

“Uhuh?”

Matsukawa glances at Oikawa and smiles.

“Tell Takahiro to enjoy the fireworks for me.”

 

Hanamaki doesn’t think he’s sweat this much in his life _ever_ , all the games he’s ever been in included. He didn’t know participating in bonfire building required this much effort he may be tall but he’s not _strong_ enough. Wood is _heavy._ Iwaizumi should’ve signed up for this. Why on earth did Watari sign up for this?

“We get a sacrifice from each sports team each year,” someone says by his right as though reading his thoughts. He’s carrying wood on his shoulder and from the size of his arms Hanamaki can just tell he’s from Judo. He also doesn’t know his name but he seems pretty cheery over the concept of human sacrifice.

“I’m not physically equipped enough for this,” Hanamaki says flatly.

Judo Man shakes his head.

“Nonsense, you have to be strong at something. Look at Risa—she’s from Archery and she has the longest arms I’ve ever seen.”

Oh Hanamaki sees alright. The girl is practically swinging wood left and right.

Judo Man pats his hands clean, beaming.

“Well, it’s almost time.”

 

Matsukawa likes working in silence, carefully dabbing glue on the chipped edges before carefully attaching each piece again like brand new. He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, humming to himself amidst the noise that’s going on outside.

He hasn’t bothered to look yet.

Because he’s alone, he finishes quicker than when he’s surrounded by too many distracting people and he ends up with nothing else to do but final packing of boxes. Once he finishes with that too, he walks over to the end of the room, facing the windows.

He pulls down a chair from one of the tables and sits, exhaling an exhausted breath.

From where he is, he can’t see the bonfire which is probably up the northside of the building. Here, he can only see the light coming from it and he probably won’t be able to see much of the fireworks this way. He doesn’t feel like going though, Hanamaki might get mad if he won’t, but for some reason, it doesn’t feel as fulfilling as what he would’ve wanted.

Instead, here, he looks at the sky, sees,

 

_The sky turning an unbelievable shade of dark orange._

And pink and purple and red until it darkens completely and Hanamaki is pretty impressed. At least now it’s dark, people won’t see much how he looks pretty scruffy.

The bonfire lights up with a cacophony of enthusiastic yelling from everyone gathered and Hanamaki quickly turns around to look for his teammates, finding Oikawa’s cowlick fast.

“Fireworks start in a few!” Someone shouts next to him and Hanamaki doesn’t bother acknowledging them, opting to run to his friends.

As he draws closer, he does an instinctual headcount although he stops hastily once the flickering light of the fire makes it too confusing. He spies Kyoutani and Yahaba together, Watari trailing behind holding a bottle with a little umbrella on the rim. Kunimi’s there. Kindaichi, the rest of the team. Oikawa is holding Iwaizumi’s hand fondly and the two are whispering close to each others’ ear.

Hanamaki doesn’t quite spot the one he wants to see and he frowns, standing on his tiptoes now and twisting around.

“Hanamaki-san,” Kunimi shouts over the noise to call him and he turns, “when will the fireworks start?”

“Soon!” Hanamaki yells back with increasing dread.

Kunimi turns around to convey this to others and Hanamaki nearly spins on the spot to grab his attention back.

“Kunimi!” he shouts. “Have you seen Issei?”

“Matsukawa-san?” Kunimi looks bewildered. “Isn’t he here yet?”

An arrow to the heart. Hanamaki turns to Watari who immediately looks trapped.

“Have you seen Issei?”

“No, sorry!” Watari jumps. “He was still in the classroom when I left.”

“ _Oikawa!_ ” Hanamaki practically growls and Oikawa jumps about a foot high. Hanamaki stomps towards him, angry and Iwaizumi, for all the good of him, pulls Oikawa closer to him but doesn’t intervene.

“Wh-Wha—” Oikawa squeaks.

“Where’s Issei?” Hanamaki thinks he sounds more desperate than angry and Oikawa looks pretty sad.

“It’s not my fault—well it kind of is—but he said he’d do it!” Oikawa says.

Hanamaki coughs in disbelief. “Do _what?_ ”

“He said I could go because he was fixing the teacup I broke!”

“He’s still back there?!” Hanamaki cries, pointing to the building behind them.

“He should be here by now but—”

“The fireworks are about to start!” Hanamaki bites his nails.

“Makki—”

Hanamaki starts running before Oikawa can finish the thought.

 

Funny he’s still sweating but he’s also cold and wouldn’t at all mind dying right now.

 _Goddamit, Issei_ , Hanamaki huffs right up another flight of stairs, sweat rolling down his back, _why do you need to make everything so hard for me?_

“Fuck,” Hanamaki breathes at some point.

He pivots sharply at a turn when he finally reaches their floor and runs like his life depends on it because he’s not sure what time it is already and he’s hoping whoever decides to light up the fireworks this year decided to take a nap first.

He practically breaks the door off its hinges, sliding it open.

“ISSEI,”

God. _God._ Matsukawa is right there, seated at the far end of the room looking for all the world like a part of a cliché backdrop. He looks pretty calm for someone about to miss his only chance of granting his wish but he whips around real fast when Hanamaki screeches his name and he looks bowled over.

Hanamaki strides right over to him, feet about to punch right through the floor until he’s facing Matsukawa and out of anger and agitation, he grabs him closer by the collar.

“ _What the fuck do you think you’re doing?_ ” Hanamaki hisses.

Matsukawa doesn’t move, lets himself be manhandled, still surprised.

“What are you doing here?”

“What are _you_ doing here?”

“Takahiro,”

Hanamaki sobs, “you said you were gonna go!”

Matsukawa pats his hand and Hanamak tentatively lets go, stepping back but not further away from Matsukawa’s chair and he leans on the table right next to him.

“It’s okay,” Matsukawa says.

“Shut up,” Hanamaki tells him.

“Why won’t you let me do something for you, for once, huh?”

Matsukawa rubs at his knee, scratching, silent.

“I’m not asking anything from you, Hiro.”

“Then ask me something then! Anything!” Hanamaki demands, gesturing wildly, his breath coming heavily once more.

Why is he so mad? He doesn’t know why he’s mad or how he even gives this much shit when he usually doesn’t. Matsukawa is just so forgiving and kind and always puts others first before himself why can’t he see he deserves something for once?

Matsukawa smiles, small but definitely there and Hanamaki’s heart clenches.

“Hiro,” he says like it doesn’t have any effect on Hanamaki whatsoever. He’s never been so affectionate to call him by his first name and Hanamaki wants to sob.

“Don’t be mad,” Matsukawa says. “Why are you—”

“Why?” Hanamaki echoes, lips curling downward. “Because me? I have a lot of answers for you.”

Outside, the noise is gradually getting louder though still far away and Hanamaki knows they’re running out of time but he’s not in a hurry anymore.

“You know about Mahiru, don’t you?” Hanamaki says.

Matsukawa’s expression doesn’t change but he tilts his head in affirmation.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Oh?” Hanamaki crosses his arms over his chest, leans heavily on one leg. “I don’t? Well _I do._ I want to talk!”

Matsukawa nods, _go on._

“You…,” Hanamaki starts, voice trembling. “Why are you like this, huh? I don’t understand you.”

Matsukawa chuckles, running a hand through his hair.

“Sorry.”

“I don’t really wake up well in the morning,” Hanamaki says quietly. Matsukawa’s attention whips towards him immediately, eyes widening. “’m not a morning person. I wake up quite violently really none of those well-rested waking you see in commercials and my thoughts are scrambled in the morning so there’s nothing I can tell you.”

Hanamaki lowers his arms, wringing his fingers and he tries not looking at the way Matsukawa’s trying to grasp the situation. He has no idea what he’s doing and yet his mouth just keeps running.

“I’m not sure how that’s supposed to be a good judge of character if your thoughts are scrambled in the morning but that’s how it is, Issei don’t ask stupid things,” Hanamaki scoffs. “What do I think of in the morning? I think hopefully Temari isn’t too loud this time. I think hopefully Issei is far more awake than I am so we can go to school together. I wake up just feeling hopeful about things, that’s just it.”

Matsukawa’s expression is soft, listening intently and looking like he has something to say but Hanamaki’s not gonna let him talk this time, definitely not.

“And then there’s,” Hanamaki frowns, shakes his head as he tries to remember, “love at first sight?”

Matsukawa’s facing him now and Hanamaki’s not sure when he moved but he knows if Matsukawa moves even closer, their legs are gonna bump into each other.

“You can’t feel anything at first sight, Issei,” Hanamaki drops his gaze downward and Matsukawa follows him. “You don’t know them yet. They don’t have a personality to you yet. You don’t know if they’re the type to tease you constantly but bring you cream puffs anyway. Y-You—” Hanamaki hiccups and he twists fingers anxiously, one, two, until Matsukawa reaches over to him and pries his hands away gently, right into his own, facing them upward so Hanamaki won’t twist them again.

Hanamaki makes a distressed noise, his breath getting caught in his throat when he tries to speak. Matsukawa has bigger hands than him and they’re warm, comfortable. Familiar.

He breathes in and continues through a stammer, “Y-You don’t know yet if they’re patient and will always listen to what you have to say no matter how stupid it is. That’s why love at first sight is bullshit b-because you don’t know if they’re going to make seven hundred paper stars for you or fix other people’s broken fucking teacups—”

“Hey, Hiro,” Matsukawa interrupts, looking up at him with the softest expression and Hanamaki wants to punch himself.

Hanamaki shakes his head stubbornly.

“I’m not done yet.”

“Oh, okay.”

Hanamaki sniffs and keeps sniffing, wondering if it’ll be enough to keep his tears locked in his tear ducts. He’s not at all an angry crier. Frustrated crier? Embarrassed crier? _Maybe._

Okay, so maybe sniffing repeatedly doesn’t really help at all but he’ll try harder next time.

“Hiro,” Matsukawa says, one of his hands move to wipe the traitorous tears falling on his cheek and Hanamaki ducks his head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry for being stubborn.”

“Yeah, damn right,” Hanamaki replies hoarsely.

“You weren’t done yet, right?” Matsukawa prompts.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

In the surreal outside world, there’s a lot of shouting and banging. He thinks he hears a countdown but he’s not so sure.

“Do I like you?” Hanamaki mutters and he feels Matsukawa’s other hand, the one still holding his own, move, turning so that he’s clasping Hanamaki’s fingers. “Oh, Issei,” and he feels like combusting.

Matsukawa draws in a shaky breath, standing so he can get closer and his hands move to cup Hanamaki’s face, tips forward until their lips meet in the middle. Hanamaki gasps into his mouth, fingers coming up to Matsukawa’s jaw as the sky outside lights up bright and though everything else is noisy, he’s never really felt this still.

He tilts his head, Matsukawa’s thumbs grazing his cheek, making him shiver.

“Issei,” Hanamaki murmurs against his lips and he feels Matsukawa smile and his heart races even more.

“Hmm?” Matsukawa hums, too busy scraping Hanamaki’s bottom lip with his teeth and one of his hands comes down to grasp at his side, not intending to let go.

Hanamaki feels like he’s about to burst.

“ _Issei_ , t-he— _ah_ —the fireworks!”

He lands a punch right on his chest and Matsukawa laughs softly and he’s so close—their chests nearly pressed together—that Hanamaki feels it rumble in his hand.

Hanamaki pats his cheek, urging him to turn and he points to the window where the sky fills with lights. They can’t see it all the way here, only seeing the streaks, the colors flashing and the loud bang as it bursts in the sky.

Hanamaki stares at it all, wide-eyed and relieved that they made it. When he looks back, Matsukawa is staring at him.

“What are you doing?” He hisses at him. “The fireworks!”

Matsukawa’s lips quirk into a smirk.

“I know.”

Hanamaki licks his lips, flustered.

“Issei—”

“Do me a favor,” Matsukawa says and Hanamaki shuts the hell up, “and kiss me.”

 

+

 

Hanamaki is staring at the audience up above, really feeling incredulous as they wave the banners right in front of him.

“You ready, boss?”

He jumps, immediately ready to kick and punch but then he sees it’s just Matsukawa so he frowns instead.

“What?” Matsukawa smiles innocently.

The girls above them are squealing.

“Good luck, Hanamaki-kun!”

“You too, Matsukawa-kun!”

Matsukawa waves at them and Hanamaki looks at him weirdly.

“What?” Matsukawa wants to know, still smiling his weird smile.

“The banners…” Hanamaki begins.

Matsukawa nods slowly. “Ah, I think they’re pretty neat, don’t you think?”

The banners, Hanamaki swears they weren’t there the last game they had, but the damn banners have his name on it followed by words of encouragement. Just his name no one else. Like a dream.

“Are they really…necessary?”

“Of course!” Matsukawa says, putting an arm around his shoulder and steering him away. “Definitely,” he continues, “Oikawa doesn’t even have them. It’s for mental stamina.”

Speaking of Oikawa, their Captain waves at them from the bench. He’s been pretty sickly sweet to Hanamaki ever since he got mad at him even though Hanamaki repeatedly told him there was no need for it.

“Huh,” Hanamaki intones and Matsukawa drops his arm to sneakily hold his hand, grinning.

And of course, Hanamaki finally notices something, his eyes zeroing in on the number on Matsukawa’s shirt.

“Hold on a minute,” Hanamaki says flatly, “don’t you see anything fishy around here?”

“Hmm? Not really.”

“WHY ARE YOU WEARING MY SHIRT,”

“ _You’re_ wearing my shirt.”

Hanamaki looks down and ah. Right. Huh.

“Gather around!” They hear Iwaizumi call them up for a last meeting before the game starts.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa look at each other, Hanamaki eyeing his shirt and back and Matsukawa raising an eyebrow.

Hanamaki rolls his eyes.

“Oh, fuck it,” they shrug.

To hell with it.

**Author's Note:**

> "paola how'd they get an entire gas range up their classroom"  
> magic
> 
> i'm gonna be honest this WIP is like a year old but better late than never! haha (gets shot)  
> WHO HERE LOVES SEVENTEEN? (jazz hands)
> 
>  
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/crossbelladonna)   
>  [Buy me a coffee? (っ˘ڡ˘ς)](http://ko-fi.com/crossbelladonna)


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